brush the sky
by catnipevergreens
Summary: 'And then when she starts singing about this innocent girl marrying her and when she turns to the front Rachel's eyes are wide and she feels a buzz at the knowledge clearly no one has ever sung to (seduced) this girl like she is right now. It's hilarious. It's hot as hell.' Exploration of Cassie and Rachel's relationship; canon until Swan Song then heads off into AU
1. Chapter 1

So.

She _just_ about makes it back to New York in time for the start of the new semester. Her one and only friend picks her up from the airport, smirking as she skulks across the airport in dark sunglasses, still slightly wobbly on her feet.

"Spain was as good to you as ever then?" he asks, taking the large suitcase from her as she rubs at her temple.

"Shut up, Lucian," she replies in a scratchy voice, but lets him lean forward to kiss her cheek anyway. "Oh god I need coffee," she groans, as they walk out of the airport together. It doesn't even occur to her to try and hide her hangover from him – after all, what _else_ would he think she's been doing in the south of Spain for a month, if not hiding from tourists, students and the summer auditions under a haze of alcohol?

"How was the city without me?" she asks as they're cruising along the island on their way back to Manhattan.

"Delightful. Jonathan's opening night went fabulously – even Coric gave him a good review."

"_Really_?" says Cassie in surprise, pulling a slightly amused face that doesn't entirely cover the flicker of jealousy that passes over it. "I didn't think that uptight bitch had anything good to say about _anyone_." She goes back to staring out the car window.

It's enough to put her in a bad mood for the rest of the weekend, as she angrily starts preparing for the start of classes. Her anger soon turns, as usual, to a bitter resignation, which is still hanging heavily on her come Monday morning.

Still, it's a new year, and a new batch of naïve freshman to weed through in case _maybe_, just maybe there's one or two that are special. It happens every year, and each time adds further strength to her resolve that her teaching methods are her doing the right thing, pushing them until they break so they'll perhaps be ready for the brutal battle they have to wage in the real world.

As soon as the students arrive and start dancing any brief optimism she has vanishes, because they're all between nothing special to downright hopeless and _christ_ these first few weeks are fucking exasperating.

There's a couple of new students that particularly look like she can enjoy taking a bite out of them to take the edge of the reawaken sting of regret and jealously that appears _every damn year_. A good quarter of the girls are overweight by her standards - when she spots one with an honest to god muffin-top she chuckles to herself, because that girl's clearly not going to make it past the third week of classes.

There's another who Cassie can't help but notice as soon as she turns around because she's throwing anxious glances in her direction every three seconds. She's clearly terrified, about as out of place as a goose in a pond full of swans, and added to that she's wearing a _pink_ skirt, christ.

She scans the crowd of students as they begin leaping across the room, barking out her first criticisms of the year; and she's not being pointlessly vicious, however bad her mood is – these students are here to _learn_, and she's a damn good teacher.

As the goose-girl hurls herself past her, narrowly whacking her in the face until Cassie ducks out of the way, she notices with a pleased eye that at least the girl has a wonderful body, if only if wasn't for that unfortunately large nose…

After a brief lecture in which she rams home to the students that most of them stand _no_ hopes of ever making it in the business and she is both richer and more fabulous than they will ever be, she zones in on her first victim. She's actually a decent dancer, but Cassie needs to make it clear from the start she takes no prisoners, and no one else has any obvious, big imperfections so far.

Oh hang on – Cassie almost laughs out loud as she turns round to see a huge nose basically hitting her in the face, with that small goose attached to it. The girl rolls her eyes at what she misguidedly judges as cruelty, and Cassie smirks as the most beautiful excuse for an attack presents itself.

"Hold it."

The music stops, and the girl looks unsuspectingly round to see who Cassie's about to launch on next.

"I'm sorry," she says blithely, pointing at the girl who realises with a start Cassie's talking to _her_. A smirk forms on Cassie's face as she continues, "Did my conversation with Muffin Top… offend you?" She shoots an almost questioning frown in the girls direction as she begins to circle her like prey (and really, she's about to be eaten alive if the terrified look on her face is any indication), and the girl instantly drops to an innocent subservience.

"No!" she says breathlessly.

"What's your name?" Cassie asks smoothly as she plays with her hair, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't being overly flirtatious because a) nothing like warming your prey up to you before you viciously strike, and b) the girl is pretty sexy up close, even with that nose.

She guesses instantly it's a massive insecurity though, and adds, "Little Miss David Schwimmer," even as she notices the gaudy 'Rachel' dangling from her throat. It's not a question, and the girl quickly repeats it.

"I bet you were a biiig star back Iowa."

"I'm actually from Ohio," the girl corrects her hopefully and god has she not realised yet she needs to keep her mouth shut?

"Ohio!" Cassie smiles, and the girl nods eagerly. "That's even worse," Cassie continues dryly, because she knows fuck all about Ohio but that expression _needs _to be wiped off the girl's face.

"So did you come all the way to New York City to tell me how to run my class?" she asks sweetly.

"No, I came to learn," the girl tells her, and _well – _she basically asked for it.

"Ok," says Cassie, turning away from her and swaggering away, because really, she's done with this girl now. "Lesson number one. Your piqué turns are pathetic and your stuck-up little attitude is really pissing me off. Music!"

But then she sees the girls face form a steely look of resolve out of the corner of her eye and something in Cassie recognises that kind of determination instinctively, and knows she needs to be knocked down another peg.

So she zones in on the girl again even though the boy dancing next to her is about as turned out as a kangaroo, and maybe she enjoys yelling, "Higher! Higher!" at her a little too much, but it gets the result she was looking for. The girl just isn't good enough, and falls to the floor.

Crouching down on the floor next to her to finish her off definitely isn't necessary, but she wants to relish in the power she has over this painfully ambitious girl who is clearly used to teachers loving her. And then with the utterly dejected look now plastered across the girls face, she's definitely done with her for today.

* * *

Christ she's forgotten how much she hates freshman, and wakes up in a fucking terrible mood when she remembers the class of bumbling fools she has to teach again. She wears her makeup heavier than usual, because it's like war paint, and she just feels like she has something to prove today; to the world, to herself?

But it makes her late for class so she skips breakfast and makes her smoothie in the studio instead. She's angrily tossing fruit into the blender when Benjy walks in, and he's one of the few students she has the tiniest of attachments to. He was the weakest of the weak when he first arrived, and broke down sobbing at least once a class for the first semester; but he persevered, her methods worked and now he's her TA.

Was.

"Oh stop it doesn't matter!" she berates him kindly when he tries to play himself down, because he's probably never going to be more than a flying monkey however much she pushes him and he deserves this bit of happiness. She drops in a little anecdote about her own first performance as if it was just yesterday, as if she's still a real performer… and he's still terrified and adoring of her so he laps it up.

She's being honest when she says she's proud of him, and shoots him a fond look as he hurries away to start his career. But when she turns back to her breakfast suddenly everything feels so fucking _pointless_, and the pain and regret and _humiliation_ that someone a tenth as talented as her can get cast when she's laughed out the theatre rises up in her chest. She _needs_ to make it go away, and as she pours rum into the blender the pain turns into anger.

* * *

Her anger finds a home when she walks into her class to see that Rachel girl practising pitifully at the barre. She's wearing a darker skirt today _thank the lord_ which her ass actually looks kinda cute in; maybe the alcohol's gone to her head.

"God almighty Schwimmer," she says joyfully because this is just too _easy_. "Is it possible you're getting worse?"

She stops dancing, because she clearly hasn't learnt Cassie just does _not_ care about whatever she has to say for herself. "I've been practicing a lot, I've just... had a little bit of a rough week," Rachel tells her hesitantly.

"Aww," Cassie replies mockingly, scanning her lesson plan because the rum's definitely hitting her and she cannot remember for the life of her what she's supposed to be teaching today. "You tired? You lonely? You _homesick_?" She doesn't even have to turn round to know she's hitting Rachel where it hurts, but she really does _not_ have time for whining when today has just been one big fucking reminder of how good these kids have it. "Well you better decide how bad you want it. Because this school's filled with people who will do _whatever_ necessary to make it in this business."

When Rachel rushes over to whine about Cassie picking on her she loses her temper because _honestly_, she needs to learn when people are actually trying to _help_ her, as opposed to blindly encouraging her delusions about her own talent. From the stunned look on Rachel's face she's clearly offended _again_, though.

"What's your problem now?" Cassie sighs, scowling, but she's really not expecting the response that follows:

"There's just alcohol on your breath," Rachel replies in a shocked tone, and _fuck. _The whole class has obviously been listening to this exchange and they're now looking over in silence as Cassie thinks _fast_.

"It's Listerine," Cassie tells Rachel scathingly, but the thought of that stuck-up, un-talented little girl nearly humiliating her in front of her students and costing her _another_ career pushes her over the edge and she will _not_ let any of these students (that girl) think they can ever forget who she is and how _good_ she is.

"I might not be a wide-eyed ingénue anymore," she tells them fiercely as she saunters round the classroom, "But I can still dance circles around any of you." And with the alcohol buzzing through her system she jabs a finger at someone to start the music, and turns round to teach this girl a fucking lesson.

She smoulders round at her students as she begins to sing, and they all look suitably impressed. But when she turns to face Rachel she sees a look in the girl's eyes that drives her wild, and fuck if she's not going to try and seduce this girl just because she _can_. And from that moment on she's performing for her.

She smirks to herself as she begins to clap, locking Rachel's eyes with her own and then beginning to whirl around the dance floor with alcohol and adrenaline and something else rushing through her and she _knows _how good she looks. She catches a glance across at Rachel as she's dragged across the dance floor and it spurs her on even more.

And then when she starts singing about this innocent girl marrying her and turns to the front Rachel's eyes are _wide_ and she feels a buzz at the knowledge clearly no one has ever sung to (seduced) this girl like she is right now. It's fucking hilarious.

It's fucking hot as hell.

She's having the time of the life when they reach the chorus and maybe she loses a touch of finesse as she whirls her hair around and _loses_ herself in what she's doing, but it works, because when she marches forward and kicks her leg high into the air the girl actually _closes her eyes_ and honestly has someone this gay never actually fucked a woman before?

She throws herself to the floor and crawls towards Rachel, letting her know _exactly_ what it would be like if Cassie did that to her. And then she throws in a few extra moves where she opens her legs as wide as possible, and jumps up and reaches towards Rachel and she's pretty sure how turned on she is is plastered all over her face, because the girl looks terrified.

She completely disregards all of the other students and performs to Rachel alone, who is literally gripping onto the table as her teacher sings that she wants to be with her, the rolling of her hips telling her _exactly_ how. From the look in Rachel's eyes she wants it too, and as she chants out, "Who cares what they're gonna say?" she shoots a raunchy grin at Rachel and yeah this is a full-blown seduction now. And fuck if Rachel doesn't look turned on by it, her innocent little face pouting at Cassie who leaps towards her and rolls her hips at her and pretty much leaves the rest of the class and the other dancers alone to shamelessly flaunt her sexuality at this girl until she's left in no doubt that she _wants_ Cassie - because _that's_ how good she is.

By the end of the dance Rachel is looking equally parts desperate and terrified that Cassie is about to jump on her any second, and stares at her almost expectantly for a few seconds as Cassie regains her breath. She's overwhelmed by alcohol, adrenaline and lust and is basically about to lose it, so she forces herself to retain control for a single moment, snaps at Rachel, "You're not just on my list, Schwimmer. You _are_ my list," (because who, frankly, after that is left in any doubt that it was all about Rachel?) and sashays out of the class before she collapses, tries to jump her student, or both.

* * *

She can't wait til she gets home (and it's not like she hasn't had sex in this office before) so she slams the door of her office behind her, locks it and rips off her soaked leotard before thrusting two fingers into herself _hard_. Another hand slides up to pluck at her nipple as a long groan rushes out of her throat, as if she's been holding it in from the moment she started dancing. Her fingers move faster as images of Rachel's stunned and undeniably turned on face rush through her mind, remembering how her eyes followed her round the dance floor, raking over her body at every move…

Her breathing becomes more erratic as her hips thrust to meet her fingers, curling to hit that spot right _there _and the hand playing with her breast moves up to run angrily through her mussed hair. For a split-second a single clear thought of _what the fuck_ runs through her mind before she's hit with an image of Rachel's uncomprehendingly-aroused expression as she slowly lifted her head to look at Cassie and she's pushed over the edge, a strangled cry emanating from her throat and it's _such _a good thing her office is tucked in a far corner of the building.

Her fingers slow to a stop as she leans, panting against the door, one hand thrown up behind her. She stares round at her office, coming down from her rush and laughing to herself as she realises one tiny, obnoxious and terribly naïve little girl caused this in her.

* * *

She successfully ignores Rachel for the first half of the lesson, because she is _not_ someone who likes to lose control, and doesn't want Rachel to start thinking she's in any way more special than she already thinks she is just because her dance teacher has a casual attraction towards her (and maybe got off three more times once she'd got home until her body had stopped trembling).

She's in a slightly better mood than usual, though, after inducing such a blatant reaction from her dancing in such an uptight student and leaving the class in _no_ doubt of how good she is – and she caught Rachel practicing late after class the night before, so she decides to be fair.

"You, Miss Schwimmer, show me your piqué," she says indifferently with a vague wave of her hand, but can't help a small lick of her lips as she scans the girl's round, round ass, which she definitely did _not _think about last night.

She's slightly less horrendous than earlier in the week though, so maybe she _has_ learnt to do what she's told, and Cassie decides she deserves a little help. "Ok, give me another one. Centre yourself this time."

And she does, so Cassie tells her in a reluctant tone, "That's better, slightly," nodding her head to the side in concession and what, disappointment that she's beaten the girl down so easily?

"Are you gonna roll your eyes at me now?" she asks almost _kindly_ for her, because Rachel knowing who's boss is _good_ for her, because then she can get _better_.

"No," Rachel replies, and Cassie waits. And when she adds, "But I'm going to keep getting better until I'm the best you've ever seen," Cassie turns round with a pout, and she _laughs_ because this game is apparently still _so_ on.

"Oh you're mouthy! And you've got _guts!_ ," and all niceness is gone now because how can this barely acceptable dancer without any genuine talent _honestly_ think she can beat some of the once-in-a-lifetime students who have passed through Cassie's class? "Good, I like it. I like that spirit in my students." And she kind of wants to see how far she can push this girl, so she leans right into her personal space and she can almost _feel_ Rachel's determination to not be turned on this time (and really, who does she think she's kidding?)

"Because it'll make it more _fun_ for me, when I'm making your every waking moment hell on earth." She stays there for a moment, waiting to gauge Rachel's reaction, and when she stands steely-faced, Cassie pulls back and smiles to herself, partly surprised and a little impressed that Rachel's managed to find some self-control out of apparently nowhere, and partly at the thought of how much _fun_ she's going to have with this girl.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't think it's possible to dance the Argentinian Tango to 'Everytime', but it was just too tempting when played alongside Cassandra and Rachel's conflicting dynamic, thus I kept it, so go with me.**

* * *

So.

The term starts to get going and the next few weeks pass in their usual way. The weaklings are weeded out as they run from the class crying, leaving Cassie with a smattering of talent to actually teach. Schwimmer seems to have calmed down since her borderline public orgasm at Cassie's performance, which is kinda boring, so she decides to push a few of her buttons, using her best arsenal available.

Sex.

"It's all about _sex_," she smoulders. She shoots a smirk at Rachel, waving her cane seductively in her direction, and the girl is so eager she looks like she's about to melt on the spot. Whether it's from determination to prove herself to Cassie or arousal, or both, she's unsure; but either way Cassie's got her desired result in Rachel _wanting_.

Rachel, though, is not someone who expresses her sexuality. Not knowingly, anyway, but Cassie can see it's simmering underneath in every unconscious lick of her lips and widening of her eyes whenever Cassie does something _just_ so. And it's not just her, either; she's seen the way Rachel watches the other fine specimens of her class with something a little too intense to be called observation.

Rachel needs to learn to access that if she ever wants to captivate an audience, hold them in the cusp of her hand like Cassie knows how to do so well; like she's doing right now with her. But Rachel is as Broadway sexy as a cabbage patch kid and her classmates know, and Cassie watches as they all quickly disperse even as she looks round hopefully at them with her innocent little face.

"Not you, Schwimmer," she tells her, and, yeah, she's trying to push her buttons as well (and maybe part of her wants Rachel to get so indignant she has to tango _with_ her...) when she adds, "Keep practicing those jazz hands back in the corner." She turns away, lazily playing with her cane as she waits for Rachel to react and yep, there it is.

"Wait but- Miss July," Rachel composes herself, and Cassie turns round, feigning interest. "I'm sorry, but if I'm ever going to play Evita I'm going to have to learn how to tango…"

Cassie ignores her deluded Evita comment and instead pretends to glance around the classroom, as if she didn't already have every student filed away in her memory by nickname and weakness.

"We're short of boys so a girl needs to sit out and…" she pauses, as if she's trying to break some tragic news gently to Rachel, "You don't have enough _sex appeal_ to pull off a credible tango," she tells her quietly. She doesn't want to humiliate her after all; she just wants her to rise to the challenge. "You're awkward and tentative and you move your body like you're _ashamed_ of it."

She pulls a confused face at that last comment, because _no one_ should be ashamed of their body, especially not a performer; especially not someone as confident as Rachel.

She leaves it at that, letting the full implication of her words sink into Rachel, who stares at her with a dumbfounded expression as she turns away to continue the lesson.

"Arms up! Ready, 5, 6, 7…"

* * *

She's in the middle of stretching out at the beginning of her next Freshman class when she hears someone strutting in ten minutes late, and looks up to see Schwimmer standing in front of her, dressed as what can only be an ill-informed caricature of 'sexy'.

_Christ_.

What's more, Brody Weston of _all_ people is standing next to her. She shouldn't be surprised, because for all his smoking hotness Brody never shoots higher than preying on Freshmen.

Rachel's smirking like she's successfully risen to Cassie's challenge, but Cassie merely leans her chin vaguely seductively on her hand and says in a bored voice. "You're late." She watches as Rachel struggles not to roll her eyes, and adds, "And dressed like a Walgreens underwear model."

Rachel throws a knowing look in Brody's direction and something in the rapport they obviously have (what, did they bond over bitching about _Crazy July_ or something?) smarts Cassie.

"What are you doing here Brody?" she asks teasingly, and it's not really a question she expects to be answered.

But Rachel misses the implications of her tone – or ignores them completely, she's not sure – and replies, "I asked Brody to come in and help me with a little routine."

Oh _there _it is. Cassie smiles knowingly at Brody, and pushes a little further. "And you just love helping people don't you," she says with an icy sweetness. "Especially the ingénues."

Brody avoids her cutting gaze and _honestly_, how is Schwimmer this naïve? She seems to have caught Cassie's tone by now but carries on regardless, informing Cassie that she apparently wants to prove her sexiness to her.

That catches Cassie's interest, and she can't help the slight buzz of satisfaction, as she absent-mindedly plays with her cane.

"Show me what you've prepared," she tells her lightly, and gestures in mild disbelief at the talcum powder suddenly being sprayed across her classroom.

As she settles into her chair the opening notes of _Oops… I Did It Again_ trickle out and she can't help the small smirk tugging at her lips at what is clearly going to be a pantomime of a performance, because really, _Britney_ is Schwimmer's idea of the height of sexiness?

But then she begins to sing, and as her admittedly charming voice rolls out the words _it might seem like a crush_ and she lifts her big brown eyes to smoulder at Cassie, it occurs to her that this is a _seduction_; and not just in the name of theatre, but of her, particularly.

Rachel comes to stand before her in a horrifically awkward version of a sexy pose, but Cassie barely notices as she fully registers her long, long legs, barely covered by the swathe of material simultaneously pushing her breasts up _deliciously_. As Rachel licks her plump lips Cassie leans into her hand, half-hiding for a moment as she struggles to regain her composure, because Schwimmer _cannot_ think her performance is having any effect on her; for one thing, it's not in any way deserving of such a reaction, and she can't start thinking this kind of charade will land her _Evita_.

But Rachel sashaying around barely clothed is sending tingles through Cassie's body, and her fingers begin to toy with her cane as she tries to regain her focus. Rachel climbs onto a table, throws open her legs and Cassie heart jumps as she suddenly has a full view of Rachel's crotch. Heat rushes straight between her own thighs, and she squeezes her legs tighter.

Rachel's getting more and more into the performance now though, her plump mouth smiling widely and her darkened eyes throwing flirtatious looks at the other dancers, and she's barely looking at Cassie as she slides across polished wood; which is thankful, as she has to cross and re-cross her legs in an attempt to satisfy the throbbing in her crotch. Cassie's eyes narrow as she tries to do her job and analyse Rachel's performance, but all she can think about is trying to drink in as much of her body as possible.

By the time Rachel reaches the second chorus Cassie's control is starting to slip, her breathing heavy as her eyes dart around to follow Rachel's every move. And then she watches as Rachel rubs herself up against Brody, oblivious of Cassie and clearly having the time of her life. Cassie's eyes narrow because _of course_ - this isn't really for her at all, it's just Schwimmer's silly attempt at seducing the baby hunk dancing opposite her.

Rachel jumps up and belts out the glory note, running a hand through her hair as she shoots a cheeky grin at Cassie, because she's apparently remembered who her audience is, and clearly thinks she's won this one. She's not even close. Cassie holds Rachel's gaze determinedly as she leans back, silently planning how she's going to tear her performance to shreds.

Rachel's still smiling saucily right up until the moment the music stops, and when she takes a slight hitch of breath at the end, she suddenly becomes an innocent schoolgirl once again, and Cassie's struck by how much she loses her insecurities when she's performing, and how much she _transforms_ herself. Awkward dancing aside, Rachel is undeniably talented, and it angers her.

So when she jumps down from the tables – with Brody's guiding hands, of course – and asks eagerly how she did, Cassie snaps, "Look you can memorise a routine. So what." Rachel looks away dejectedly, and Cassie tries not to stare at her heaving chest.

"Rachel was incredible," Brody insists, and _christ_ does he genuinely _like_ her?

That's not happening.

"_You_ were incredible," Cassie tells him firmly, because he's earned the right to be deemed approving. "Rachel was OK." The dampness in her crotch thoroughly negates those words, but whatever.

She sees Rachel throw another look at Brody and it irks her even further. "And that song? Garbage. Who's idea was that? You want truth? Fine. Maria Von Trapp," she tells a stunned Rachel. "Willy Loman. Shrek," she adds, grinning at Rachel as she sees the girls disappointment turning to exasperation and humiliation. Did she _honestly_ think her virginal, teenage idea of sex appeal could in any way change Cassie's mind?

"Those are the roles that are appropriate for your level of sex appeal," Cassie finishes dryly, pleased with her thorough dismantling of Rachel. Then suddenly:

"You're just jealous of me. Of _all_ of us."

Brody interjects, but no – she wants to see this. She smirks, waiting for Rachel to humiliate herself as she digs a deeper and deeper hole in her attempt to hurt Cassie.

"We have our entire careers ahead of us, and yours ended before it even began," Rachel rambles and she almost laughs because she's heard this one before. Just because she's a _teacher_ does not mean her career is _over_. She's got too thick a skin to be bothered by the delusions of a Freshman.

But then Rachel finishes with, "And you're just some YouTube joke."

_What_.

Cassie stares open mouthed in disbelief at Rachel because –some _joke?_ _No one_ brings up that video if they don't want their asses _handed_ to them. Cassie feels humiliation rising up inside her, closely followed by rage, and for a moment she has an overwhelming urge to swing at Rachel. But she holds it, trying to process what's just been said to her until she leans forward and says simply, "You're done. Get out of my class."

When Rachel doesn't move but simply stands there, the fall force of what she's just said apparently _just_ dawning on her, she screams, "Get out of my class! Out!"

It still takes a moment for her to go, even with Cassie waving her cane dangerously in the air, but she turns and hurries out, closely followed by Brody. Cassie watches them go in disbelief, as tears sting in her eyes.

* * *

She's fuming all the way through the back corridors of NYADA (god forbid she see Schwimmer now) and she barks at a cab driver to take her to SoHo. "No, wait. Talina's," she edits. She stares out the window, her jaw set hard as her heart still pumps wildly in her chest, adrenaline rushing round her body.

How dare she?

How _dare_ she?

She knows they all whisper about it behind her back – of course they do – but it's in hushed tones in the dark corners of dorms, as if terrified the mere degradation of her name might get them expelled.

Not Rachel. Part of Cassie wishes she was more surprised, but she's been expecting it all along. Hasn't she been poking her and taunting her for this very reason, to make her crack? Not quite like this, perhaps, but then you can't control a volcano once it's exploded. She'd imagined shaking sobs and the stupid girl storming from her studio, dignity in tatters. But if she's honest with herself she recognised that selfish determination that aligns _so _often with cruelty the moment Rachel set foot in her class.

It's not why her chest hurts so much. It's not why at all.

* * *

"Hey," says Lucian softly in her ear, wrapping an arm round her shoulders as he slips onto the barstool next to her.

"G+T please," he tells the bartender, and leans forward on one elbow. Cassie downs the rest of her drink.

"Same," she says, barely even slurring as she slams the glass on the polished wooden bar. "Why am I not in fucking Spain."

"Because you have an army of over-indulged Broadway wannabes to bully into shape," Lucian tells her plainly, "Otherwise, quite frankly, there's no one to do a decent job," he adds, and Cassie snorts.

"Wannabe is apparently what _I _am," says Cassie darkly as she reaches for her drink. Lucian raises an eyebrow at her.

"Cassie, don't call a pity party on me because one of your students hasn't learn to shut their arrogant mouth yet."

"Lucian, this girl!" Cassie rages, her eyes flashing, "She's so… _Argh_!"

"Find a way to shut her up," Lucian tells her simply, as she sits fuming, running a hand angrily through her hair. She scowls at her drink.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get smashed."

* * *

Six hours later Cassie wobbles into her loft, throwing her clothes off around her as she heads across the rug-covered floorboards and collapses on her bed. Groaning, she rolls over, and stares at the ceiling as her head spins. Broken images flash through her mind; Rachel pouting, Rachel running a hand through her long, long hair, Rachel with her legs spread, Rachel leaning forward so Cassie can see right down her top...

She slides a hand across her stomach and into herself, as the girl in her mind bends down and grins seductively up at her from between her legs, and a cry rips out from Cassie's throat.

* * *

She dreams about Broadway that night. She's on stage, as Evita, the opening notes of _Don't Cry For Me Argentina_ echoing round the music hall, when somewhere from the dark audience laughter begins. Cassie stops, her heart hammering. _No, not this again. No._

She stares around at the empty stage, then back at the audience, where the laughter grows louder. She doesn't understand. She's not crazy. _She's not_. The audience die away except for one figure; Rachel, still dressed in her outfit from earlier, laughing wildly.

_You're just some YouTube joke_.

Cassie gasps, her eyes flying open. They meet only darkness as she realises she's awake. She lies there for several minutes as her heart hammers in her chest, waiting for her breathing to slow down, before she turns round and drifts back to sleep, clutching her pillow tightly.

* * *

She's hung over as _fuck_ the next day, and thanks every saint she can remember from Catholic school that she doesn't have classes on a Wednesday. Instead, she rolls out of bed at six in the morning, gasps down a litre of water, before collapsing again until sometime in the mid-afternoon.

She phones Tibideaux once she thinks she can speak again, but the outcome is pretty much what she's expected. NYADA does second chances, even if she doesn't.

She wonders if Rachel will come back to her class at all. (She knows she will.)

* * *

She stays up late that night, running through choreography sheets in the moonlight. It would be romantic if her head wasn't thumping like a brass band. She leans against the cool window, trying to get the pain to stop.

She's angry at herself for losing control, _again_, even if Rachel didn't see most of it, even if nobody but Lucian did. But she hasn't lost it like that in years. Two, three maybe. Not since she stopped flying anyway.

There's one thing, though, nudging away at her from the back of her mind. A grudging respect for a girl who she's beaten down and humiliated and who came back fighting with _fire_. She almost doesn't want Rachel to give up, give in… because she knows that's the kind of fight it takes to make it on Broadway. That's the kind of fight it takes to be a star.

She shakes her head and growls in exasperation, and then tips her head back against the wall as she almost laughs at herself.

* * *

It's late afternoon the next day, as she's working on some new choreography, when the door of her classroom creaks open. She ignores it at first, because whoever it is can wait, but then she freezes slightly as she sees Rachel standing hesitantly at the door, looking like she's about to enter the lion's den.

Cassie supposes she is, in a way.

"I'm working," she says sulkily, and continues to undulate her hips seemingly effortlessly. She doesn't miss the way Rachel stares a little too long.

Undeterred, Rachel closes the door and says quietly, "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

Cassie doesn't say anything, but continues to work as Rachel begins an earnest speech, from which Cassie gathers she _still_ thinks she's being picked on, until she breathily tells her, "Stop. _Talking_." She's still in the haze of her earlier dancing, and maybe that's why she lets down her barriers a little and decides to be honest with Rachel.

Or maybe it's the Irish coffee she had for lunch. Who knows.

"Look. You lost it. You lashed out, same as I did ten years," she admits, scribbling down her new choreography. "Except all it took for you to snap," she continues, turning round to wave her pen at Rachel, "Is a little honest feedback – and, excuse me – dance class! And you expect to make it on _Broadway_?" She adds a mocking chorus imitation, as if to underline Rachel's idealistic ideas about her future world of employment. Rachel has the decency to look ashamed, casting her gaze down as she plays with her fingers.

"Where all there is, is _scrutiny, _and _judgement_," she tells her more passionately. When Rachel ignores her warning to further apologise she interrupts, because she _needs_ her to see this from her point of view; she needs her to understand what she's risking when she loses control like that.

"And what if someone taped your little outburst. And then posted it on the internet. You'd _never get cast_."

Rachel's silent, the full reality of Cassie's words hitting home, and so she says slightly more softly, "You've got _one chance_. You screw it up – _done_." She lies back on the floor with a slightly manic grin on her face, reaching up to pull her leg back into a stretch. "You're that _crazy_ actress, and why would anyone wanna work with you?" For a moment she can see Rachel registering what Cassie's revealing to her; a snapshot of what ten years of humiliation and self-punishment have done.

Cassie wonders briefly why she's opening up, even a little, around Rachel, and why Rachel seems so much less daunted by it than everyone else.

"Because you're good," Rachel tells her sweetly, as Cassie rolls onto her side. Somehow the underestimation doesn't really piss her off.

"I was _great_," Cassie counters, pointing her foot high into the air as if to prove her point. She turns round to grin at Rachel, like she's sharing a special little secret with her, but her eyes darken slightly when she notices the – is that _arousal_ in Rachel's eyes? The part of Cassie still angry at her disappears all together, instead replaced with that familiar curiosity and nagging desire to test exactly how far Rachel's attraction to her goes. She's still standing there, too terrified to approach, so Cassie beckons her over.

"But it doesn't make a difference," she sighs, gesturing for Rachel to press on her leg. "'Cause I wasn't ready for the pressure."

Rachel's still incredibly hesitant – which, she can't really blame her – so she presses softly and a little _seductively_ down on Rachel's hand, encouraging her to push her leg back further.

"Believe me; it's a _whole_ lot more vicious it is out there than it is in here," she tells her, as Rachel pushes her leg back towards her head, and she can see the conflicting emotions running across her face. So she swings round to lie on her front, looking directly at Rachel in the mirror as she admits, "And that's why I pick on my students. I want them to be _ready_."

Between Cassie's personal admissions and their physical proximity, the atmosphere in the classroom has suddenly become a lot more charged. Cassie takes advantage of it and leans her head forward, gesturing at Rachel with her two middle fingers – innuendo intended – to continue helping her stretch. Rachel slowly presses her hands down on her bum, and tingles head up Cassie's spine. She can feel how clammy Rachel's hands are through her leggings.

Christ, Schwimmer really _does_ have the hots for her.

"Well I, I know that I'm not there yet," Rachel admits.

"Not even close," Cassie replies, but it's not malicious – it's almost _fond_. "And if I had my choice, I wouldn't let you back in my class." Rachel bites her lip, and yeah – Cassie can see she's learnt her lesson.

"I don't believe in second chances. I know they don't exist." It's the most honest admission of this whole encounter. "Unfortunately for me, school policy says – you get a warning." She can almost feel the relief emanating from Rachel; but she's not getting off that easily. Cassie stretches out one final time, lifting her hips high into the air so her bum is unmistakeably placed in front of Rachel's face, and she bites back a grin as she sees Rachel freeze, staring at her crotch, until she catches herself and asks stutteringly:

"So?"

"So. You're in. And on probation. And dance belt duty," she adds gleefully, because she's not going to let her get away scot free – and messing with Schwimmer is so fun. The smile slips from Rachel's face as Cassie tells her seriously, "Hand washed. All of them."

Rachel is still for a moment, as if waiting for her real punishment, but Cassie just says kindly, "You're dismissed, Schwimmer." It's starting to sound like a term of endearment, now.

Rachel can't stop staring at her as she leaves the classroom, and Cassie wonders exactly how much she's managed to mess with her head. She's wonders how much Rachel's messed with her own.

* * *

Cassandra waits for the rest of the week until she softens – it's cursory, really, and it should be a lot longer. But from their unexpectedly honest encounter she's confident Rachel's learnt her lesson. And as she sits quietly, sadly in the corner, humiliating her doesn't seem like so much fun.

So Friday afternoon, while they're dancing slowly to _Everytime_ – a silent homage to Rachel that Cassie just can't resist as she's flicking through old CDs – she whispers in one of her more adequate male dancers ears, and sends him over to Rachel. She beams at him, and Cassie smiles to herself as Rachel gets up, looking over at her and giving a shy, grateful smile of her own before she's led off across the dance floor.

Cassie circles them silently, watching as Rachel wraps a long, tan leg around the boy. He spins her out, and then pulls her back flush against him. Cassie turns away at the smile on Rachel's face, biting her lip as something stings in her chest.

She's just doing her job, she tells herself.

She's just doing her job.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the insanely long delay - I've had exams, but they're thankfully over now so updates should be more frequent._

* * *

So.

Rachel becomes more tolerable after their after-class encounter. She keeps her mouth shut – most of the time – and works diligently, accepting all of Cassie's criticisms without complaint and actually _improving_. Cassie becomes accustomed to looking over to find Rachel's face set hard in focus as she bends over her leg at the _barre_ or leaps across the dance hall, and she knows she's succeeding in her job.

But the more focus Rachel puts on her work the less she does on Cassie, and so she almost involuntarily finds herself more and more trying to attract Rachel's attention; without looking like she's lost any semblance of control. She lingers a little too long when she's critiquing Rachel's work, ignoring her other students to give some scathing advice; she can't help but step into Rachel's personal space more than is strictly necessary, to adjust her posture or push her stretch or just to whisper a sarcastic put down in her ear, which starts to become less like negative reinforcement and more and more like private jokes.

There's some weird, twisted rapport between them; a mutual recognition of their shared weaknesses, which somehow now draws out an amused eye-roll from Rachel at Cassie's cruel admonishments, rather than furious indignation – followed by an almost imperceptible smirk from Cassie.

Cassie would rather eat glass than say she _likes_ her; but she can definitely bear her presence 30% of the time.

She catches Rachel looking, though, more and more; in the mirror when Cassie's back's turned, or through a crowd when she thinks she can't be noticed. And she doesn't miss the way Rachel reacts to her physical proximity, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her brow and her chest heaving slightly too much.

It's mostly just amusing, because whilst Rachel's still dressing like a rather preppy toddler, she can deny _any_ vague attraction to her.

Then one day Rachel sashays in with sex hair to rival Cassie's own, make-up ready for the stage, her breasts almost falling out of her leotard and a shy smile that shows she knows _exactly_ how sexy she looks, and Cassie, despite the fact she has one arm resting on the piano, nearly falls over.

"Looking good, Schwim," she says dryly as Rachel walks past, with a hint of a smirk tugging at her mouth. Rachel's smile broadens, and she self-consciously tugs a strand of beautifully tousled hair behind her ear as she makes her way over to warm up. Cassie glances at her own reflection in the mirror briefly, and her heart jumps when she sees how dark her eyes are.

She hurriedly turns back round to the piano, fingering her cane for a moment before she claps at her class, and, changing her entire lesson plan, says, "OK, on the floor everyone. This afternoon we are working on our _flexibility_, as most of you can still only lift your legs about as high as an arthritic grandmother. Splits everyone, let's go!"

She sees Rachel – possibly the least flexible in the class – making her way to the far corner and quickly intervenes. "Schwim, over here with me. You need extra help," she tells her, with a slightly wicked grin.

Rachel opens her mouth to protest, but then gamely walks over to Cassie and looks up at her expectantly.

"Right leg," Cassie tells her, nodding at the floor.

As Rachel crouches down Cassie get a full view down her top and _christ_ who knew Schwimmer had a rack worth looking at? She licks her lips and it takes her a moment to realise that Rachel is trying to slide into the splits in possibly the most ridiculous and ineffective way possible. Of course.

"Schwimmer, _what _are you doing?" she asks, as Rachel lays her right leg flat on the floor and tries to push her left leg back.

"I'm-", Rachel begins, but is cut off with a groan.

"OK stop before you hurt yourself, god," Cassie says when an ugly grimace starts to appear on Rachel's face, because the only place she's heading is a torn muscle. "Seriously Schwimmer, have you never had a dance lesson before coming to NYADA?"

"I learnt how to do the splits from drunken cheerleaders," Rachel replies, so entirely deadpan that Cassie honestly can't tell if she's joking or not.

She rolls her eyes and then slides effortlessly down into her own splits, holding herself a couple of inches above the ground with her hands.

"Don't start from the ground. Keep your legs straight and use your weight to push you down." She lifts her hands up and sinks completely down to the floor, smirking as Rachel's eyes linger on her crotch.

"Your turn," she teases seductively, and Rachel blushes slightly, but then stands up and tries again.

She almost reaches the floor, and Cassie can't resist sliding her hand along the wood under Rachel. She barely brushes her crotch, but she can hear the hitch in Rachel's breath and almost _feel_ the heat radiating from her. She lifts her eyes from her hand to Rachel, and there's something in the slight challenge in her eyes that makes Cassie wonder if she's not the only one who's let their fantasies wander.

* * *

"Almost there," she whispers, smirking again. Then she moves her hand away and jumps up, heart pounding as she barks criticism at her nearest student.

When Rachel tiptoes in a week later bearing quite possibly the tallest overgrown baby she's ever met and meekly asks if her _boyfriend_ can sit in on the class, she is literally too shocked to say anything – which Rachel of course takes as a yes, and ushers the lump over to the back of the hall. He glances at her warily and she narrows her eyes in return, placing her hands on her hips as she tries to figure out how in the world over-ambitious, over-reaching Schwimmer _ever_ settled for this boy.

"Just _don't_ join in, okay?" Rachel tells the boy nervously, and Cassie has to bite down her lip to stop herself from laughing. She watches as Rachel self-consciously begins to warm-up, her boyfriend shamelessly checking out her ass, and Cassie suddenly remembers Rachel's probably slept with this boy and just _why_.

(It's not jealously, it's not at all; she's just disappointed in Rachel for setting her standards so low when _everything _matters when it comes to your career.)

She needn't have worried, though, because as soon as Rachel starts dancing she loses all her inhibitions and throws herself into her work, leaving her boyfriend forgotten and dejected at the side. He watches her mournfully in a way that suggests he _knows_ she's too good for him and when Cassie looks over at the laughing girl in the centre of the room, playing with her hair as her partner mockingly critiques her _fouette_, she thinks back to the repressed, small-town schoolgirl she was just a couple of months ago and she can feel a slither of the shock at Rachel's transformation that the boy is going through.

She doesn't see him in her class again. What she _does_ see, a few days later, is a quieter, slightly red-eyed Rachel, and she's neither surprised nor sympathetic.

She pushes her harder than usual for the next few lessons to make sure Rachel remembers _exactly_ where her focus lies.

* * *

Cassie's on her way home one evening when she quickly doubles back to grab her flask from her studio. She's halfway across the wooden floor when she hears a rustle and looks over to see Rachel standing by the barre in the half-light, startled. Streetlight distorted by the window makes shadows dance across her face and Cassie suddenly thinks how _beautiful_ she looks, her lips slightly partly and her chest still heaving from exertion.

"Miss July," Rachel says in shock, looking nervous.

"Schwimmer," Cassie replies, sounding much more pleasantly surprised. "What are you doing in my studio so late at night?" she asks, sauntering over.

"I- I was just practicing my _rond de jambs _a little more," Rachel tells her hesitantly. Cassie feels a little like she's stumbled in on a secret ritual of Rachel's, and she knows she should turn and leave, really; but secrets seem to be something they share now.

"Ok. Show me what you've got," Cassie tells her, waving with her fingers. When Rachel hesitates further she prompts impatiently, "Go on!"

Rachel obliges, and Cassie studies her carefully as she sinks down and arches one leg out and round in a slightly wobbly semi-circle.

"No, Schwimmer," Cassie interrupts, and Rachel stops mid-exercise, rising up. "Your weight is completely off centre. Pull _up. _Then you'll keep your balance and look less like a demented chicken."

Rachel bites her lip and tries again, but she's even more of a mess. Cassie sighs exasperatedly and wonders what the hell has gotten into her.

"Ok I'm going to show your body how it needs to form, and then you try it like that," Cassie tells her, moving forward to slide a hand round her waist to hold at her back, and press the other hard against her abdomen. Her fingers tingle on the soft fabric and Rachel's sweet perfume washes over her and for a moment her breath catches in her throat.

Rachel glances down at the barre and bites her lip again.

"Again Schwimmer," Cassie says quietly, and her voice somehow comes out an octave lower than it did before.

Rachel looks up at her determinedly, and obediently lowers herself towards the floor again, Cassie moving with her as they hold each other's gaze. Rachel sweeps her leg in a perfect arc across the floor as Cassie holds her, feeling the tremors in her body, then they rise gracefully up together.

They stop, Cassie's arms still wrapped round Rachel's waist, chests almost brushing together as they heave from the exercise. Cassie watches as Rachel's eyes ghost over Cassie's lips, and she ever so slightly raises an eyebrow at her.

The clang of a door down the corridor shakes them out of their reverie and Cassie snaps away, leaving Rachel looking disorientated.

"Better," she tells her softly, smiling. Rachel stares up at her with wide eyes and she _knows _Rachel's wondering if she's talking about something else entirely.

She turns and stalks back out of the studio, grabbing her flask and doesn't stop until she's out of the building and in a cab home.

She leans back against the seat and lets out a deep sigh, as she wonders if Rachel was really about to kiss her.

She doesn't know when that became something she actually _wanted_.

* * *

Her good mood lasts two whole days, until she spots Rachel sharing a coffee with Brody in Washington Square Park and it evaporates on the spot.

She knows there's something going on. She catches Brody dropping Rachel off before class, or waiting for her after, and it's _painfully_ obvious that he's as much of a smarmy predator as ever; and that Rachel loves it. Cassie watches as she plays with her hair and he whispers something in her ear before they head off down the corridor together and she rolls her eyes so much they _hurt_.

It grates.

It grates that when Rachel dances, she shakes off her inhibitions, throws herself into her work and _owns_ her body, smouldering or floating, whatever the dance demands and _oozing_ confidence (often misplaced, because she's still near the bottom of the class – although that's a class of fifteen of the most of the talented Freshmen performers in the country); and then as soon as Brody appears she becomes a giggling, fourteen year old girl and it's actually nauseating, with or without a hangover.

It grates because their entire dynamic feels like some private joke, communicated only through flirtatious looks and sarcastic barbs and lingering touches, but it's _there_ nonetheless, in a way that's completely unique and she's become… _fond _of; and every time Rachel bursts their bubble with a smoulder up at Brody she feels a wave of bitterness that she doesn't entirely understand.

She's never liked things that are out of her control. So she decides to put the two of them in a room together, her room, and figure out a way to get what she wants.

Whatever that is.

Rachel looks up eagerly as she saunters into the dance hall, and she feels that familiar buzz of satisfaction when she sees her unconsciously licks her lips. Oh it is _so_ on.

"So, partner up! We're gonna go across the floor; let's start with some jetés."

And – yeah, her class is completely designed to involve as _much _physical contact as possible. Sometimes she wonders if any of her students notice how effortlessly she manipulates them.

(She wonders if Rachel does.)

Brody predictably heads quickly over to her and Rachel beams, hands moving straight to her hair. Cassie watches, unnoticed, from across the dance hall as Rachel gesticulates to some kind of speech she's apparently making, which Brody evidently has no interest in. He feigns a smile that is so patently see-through Cassie almost rolls her eyes.

She tries to focus on critiquing her students, but it's all pretty generic. Her eyes and ears keep being drawn back to Rachel and Brody, now moving _just _close enough for her to catch what they're saying.

"I know, I'm really excited. So you know the director Ivan van Hoven? He's doing this, like, _amazing_ avant-garde production of 'The Glass Menagerie'-"

That catches Cassie's attention. She remembers Ivan; cruel, chauvinistic and power-mad, one of the most hard-to-please directors on Broadway, and also one of the most-desired. She'd sacrificed almost every ounce of dignity she had in her audition for him, fresh out of college and painfully naïve; she made it to call-backs, if only so he could torment her naivety some more.

Schwimmer, _no_.

She can't help a sly glance over her shoulder as they move past, and she pouts at what she sees; Rachel in all her enthusiasm at her _exciting new opportunity_.

"…and so he's looking for just a fresh face to play his Laura Wingfield," Rachel beams up at Brody. Cassie knows that Rachel doesn't stand a chance – and so does Brody if his patronizing tone is anything to go by – but that doesn't stop the flare of jealousy rising up inside her.

She remembers her first role, and the excitement and the promise and the many, many things she's bitterly resigned to never experiencing again.

When Brody wraps his arms around Rachel and tells her she's too hot to play Laura – and when she _buys _it, smiling coyly up at him despite his _compliment_ being both misogynistic (he should damn audition for Ivan) and ridiculous – her jealously roars.

She glares as she follows them across the floor, ignoring the rest of the class as her self-control starts to slip and she _has_ to intervene.

"Hey, some advice," she interrupts, because it's the best excuse her irrational mind can muster. "You're not ready for Ivan," she tells Rachel firmly, and when her eager little face falls she softens slightly, because Rachel's earned a little of her respect now.

"You're not tough enough yet, you don't have enough _wounds_," she insists, and there's truth in what she's saying; Cassie wasn't and didn't either, and she tells Rachel as much.

"Look, I auditioned for him, for his header, and he made me recite my monologue in a slip, standing on one foot, pouring tomato juice all _over_ myself," she divulges, almost _affectionately_. It seems to work, because Rachel looks downright _terrified_. "Skip it Schwimmer, Ivan will eat you alive," she advises her, before turning away.

There's a slight pause until Rachel – predictably – fights back.

"I can take it," she insists, and Cassie momentarily has a flashback to Rachel saying _exactly_ the same thing in her dream a few nights ago. She turns back round, biting her lip in frustration as her hands subconsciously play with her cane and _christ _is there no end to this girls aggravation?

"And I was thinking, maybe you should audition too?" Rachel suggests hesitantly and – _what?_

Cassie has to pause for a moment to check she hasn't misheard, but no, Rachel really did just say those words. Humiliation rises up harsh and raw as she instinctively ices over and honestly why does she _ever_ try to be nice to her?

She masks it quickly with amusement. "You mean the faded southern belle?" she asks in feigned ignorance that barely masks the _ridiculousness _of the suggestion. "Who spends her haggy days selling magazine subscriptions over the phone?" She pouts, and waits for Rachel to take the hint. And honestly if she'd backed away Cassie would have left it at tormenting her for the rest of the term.

But she doesn't, because she's Rachel, and she just twists the knife even further when she says hopefully, "I just thought you maybe might wanna get back in the game…"

_Get back in the game_.

Cassie literally cannot form words to fully verbalise her rage, so she just smiles with a cold, terrifying sweetness at poor, naïve Rachel, as she visualises how to best destroy the girl who has just crossed _every single possible line_.

It's not even hard.

"Juniors take five," she orders the class, turning away from Rachel who realises instantly she's gone way too far, because Cassie _never _just dismisses her. Cassie can see how sulky and disgruntled she is, glancing back at Brody as if to say _I told you so_.

She gives Cassie a dark, almost _warning_ glare as she disregards her for Brody and what, does she think she has _any _influence over Cassie's actions? Because she just knows her _so fucking well_ now apparently?

Cassie pushes her anger down and slips into her most charming role as she beckons Brody over.

"But it's gonna mean a lot of late nights, a lot of time out of school, you're gonna have to help me prep lessons…" she tells him, and she can see from the eager look in his eyes he knows _exactly_ what she means.

He's almost too easy to manipulate.

But then he says, "Ahh actually, can we start on Monday? I promised Rachel that I would-"

She freezes at the mention of Rachel's name, anger and jealousy at _so many things_ hitting her in another huge wave. Why her? Why does everyone else love this girl so damn much? _Why is Cassie being put second place to her?_

(Why is he the one who gets Rachel?)

"Yep," she can barely whisper in reply, trying to keep her simmering rage pushed down until the right moment. "I understand!" She says it so sweetly he eyes her with suspicion; but he'll never care enough about her motives to stand up to her, so she ignores it.

She splits the Freshmen and Juniors up after that, and spends the rest of the lesson ignoring the worried looks Rachel throws her from across the dance hall.

* * *

She's watching _West Wing_ reruns on her couch with Lucian, take-out on her lap, when he suddenly pauses the program and she realises she's been staring into space for the last fifteen minutes.

She sighs, shoving her food away from her as he gives her a long, hard stare.

"Cas," he says slowly, raising his eyebrows. She's silent and sulky in a way she only can be around someone she's known for fifteen years.

"What did she say?" he asks. Cassie whips round to give him a shocked glare, and he snorts.

"Well she's clearly done something," he insists, reaching forward to finish Cassie's take out. "I can't think of anything else right now that would distract you from Kristin Chenoweth."

That makes her laugh.

"You make me out to be so much gayer than I actually am," she smiles, stealing some of her takeout back.

"I really don't," Lucian replies dryly. She raises an eyebrow and then sighs again, because that just brings her back to…

"Schwimmer suggested I audition for _Amanda Wingfield_ in some off-Broadway 'Menagerie'," she tells him darkly.

Lucian whistles lowly. "Does she want to be eaten alive?"

"I know!" Cassie exclaims, almost laughing in disbelief. "It's like she doesn't even understand that she is a _Freshman_ in _college_ and I'm… I was on Broadway for _five years_!"

"Where did that suggestion even come from?" Lucian frowns.

"She's auditioning for Laura," Cassie tells him sullenly, and then looks away when she hears the bitterness in her own voice.

"Ah," Lucian says, in a way that tells Cassie she's pretty much laid all her cards on the table as to why she's actually so… _christ_ she doesn't even know what emotion she's feeling anymore.

"She's your student; don't you want her to succeed?" It's not really a question, and when Cassie glances over at her friend she knows she doesn't have to voice the two conflicting answers in her mind.

She looks at him completely openly for a moment, and says in a quiet, almost scared voice, "There's just something about this girl, Luce."

* * *

There is, and she hates it.

She hates the skip of her heartbeat when she hears Rachel's voice echo down the hallway from her classroom. But still, she can't help smiling when she walks in and sees her, so adorably terrified.

Then she remembers why Rachel looks so scared, and why she's probably in the studio after-hours.

(She sucks it up, because she knows her revenge will come soon.)

When Rachel's outstandingly homosexual roommate nearly salivates at the sight of her painfully well-toned abs and Rachel looks ready to _throttle_ him, she feels a small victory, though; Rachel turns a wonderful shade of crimson and tries to avoid both her abs and eyes at the same time.

"So you were saying? Not gonna see… what?" she prompts, not because she in any way cares about Schwimmer's life, obviously, but she can definitely get some embarrassing personal anecdotes from baby face to humiliate her with in the future.

Sure enough, seconds later Rachel's breakup with the Un-incredible Hulk is confirmed to her, and it amuses her when Rachel glares at her confidante as if she was _private _about her emotional life.

But it does present an interesting premise to Cassie… unresolved feelings for an ex are the _perfect _way to lure Rachel away from her New York man candy, giving Cassie the chance to exact some sweet, sweet revenge.

"When is it?" she asks.

"This weekend."

Bingo.

"Oh," she says as casually as possible. "Well you need to go."

Rachel has a strange expression on her face at that, which Cassie can't quite read.

"I mean if you're both not over your exes it's a perfect opportunity for closure," she presses.

"I have closure," Rachel reassures her, and Cassie's not quite sure which of the three of them Rachel's trying to convince.

She tries a different tactic. "Ok, then go have fun, Schwim."

Rachel pulls a frustrated face and Cassie wonders if Rachel would rather she persuaded her to _stay_. With _her._ She can't meet her eyes all of a sudden.

"Or go because it's Grease. Go because it's your friends, it's your high school." She can't quite keep the bitter nostalgia out of her voice, and jealousy creeps back up inside her.

Gay best friend jumps in on the act, though, and his little high-school monologue actually makes Cassie pout in faux-sympathy because it's _cute_ what these kids think is real pain.

"And even if I wanted to go – which I don't," Rachel reassures her, and Cassie rolls her eyes because she really doesn't give a fuck whether Rachel goes chasing after her pathetic ex-boyfriend for a weekend.

(She only cares if she's being chased by someone who might actually _win_ her.)

She arches her back out as Rachel gives some monologue about her poverty (she doesn't miss the hesitation in Rachel's voice as her bum rises into the air), then looks up at Rachel from under the barre and suggests seductively, "Well, I _could_ give you my Jet Blue frequent flier miles."

She stretches out her back again as she explains her aeroplane mis-adventures, pushing her hips as high into the air as possible, because, well, while she's got Rachel here staring, she might as well make the most of it.

"…which resulted in the hospitalization of… _three_ flight attendants."

Baby Lucian looks more curious than concerned, and she warms to him a little.

"Don't ask," Cassie tells him, and then turns round to Rachel, "And don't go, if you don't want to."

Rachel looks like she's hovering on the precipice, so Cassie tells her more gently, "But I just think you'll… regret missing it."

She looks surprised at Cassie's kindness – rightly so – and she wonders for a moment if Rachel's smart enough yet to figure out when she's being played.

She's not, though, especially with the emotional blackmail of her roommate – who Cassie really does like – so she instructs them to forward her their details, and later that evening sends back two tickets under the name of Miss Schwimmer.

* * *

Rachel beams at her in class the next day, and she simpers back. Brody doesn't pick her up or drop her off, and Cassie can't help feeling a twinge of happiness at that.

What he does do, however, is drop into her office later that day to let her know he's free this Friday after all.

She smirks and crosses her legs and tells him she's glad.

* * *

It's not even hard.

An hour of breathless, passionate tango with lips brushing against necks and wandering hands where she lets Brody know _exactly_ what she wants… and what he can have if it takes it. It's a game, another role she's playing and she doesn't think or feel but does what she's the absolute best at.

When she sees the song amongst her selection she smiles darkly to herself, running her fingers lightly across the table before she makes her decision. A little _homage_ to Schwimmer, and Cassie wishes she was here to see this.

_I could flirt with all the guys_

_Smile at them and bat my eyes_

_Press against them when we dance, make them think they stand a chance_

_Then refuse to see it through_

_That's a thing I'd never do_

It's a role she's born to play, and she throws herself into her seduction and just _forgets_, just for a moment… forgets how old and tired and aching she feels, forgets the endless rejection and humiliation, forgets her career's in tatters, forgets that she's a terrible person, forgets about Rachel, forgets that she doesn't even know herself anymore. Until…

_But to cry in front of you,_

_That's the worst thing I could do_

And without hesitation Rachel's laughing form, dark eyes lifting to smoulder at her from under her lashes, flashes before her eyes, and jealously and self-hatred and guilt overwhelm her and the only thing she can think of doing to make it go away is turn her head to Brody and pull his mouth down on hers.

* * *

She puts on her best smile and gives him what she knows is pretty much one of the best nights of his life, because this is one domain in which Rachel just _cannot _compete, and she wants to make sure he never forgets Rachel's second-best to her.

She doesn't want anyone to ever fucking forget that.

And it's pretty fun, because he is _smokin _hot and knows how to move his body like only a dancer can, but when he pushes her over the edge she can't help the face that forces itself into her mind.

She shouldn't want her so badly. She shouldn't want her at all. When she sees her name flash up on Brody's phone a wave of jealousy hits stronger than anything before, and she has a sudden, overwhelming urge to show Rachel that _she hasn't won_. This is a game that Rachel will _never_ win.

She smiles as she picks up the phone, drawing out her sweet, sweet victory.

"Well hello Schwimmer," she smirks. "How's Ohio?"

"Cassandra?" Rachel asks in confusion. "I… I was calling for Brody," she says slowly, and Cassie can almost hear the panicky scenarios running through her mind.

"Yeeaah, he's in the shower," she tells her, pausing to let the implication of her words sink in. "Soaping up his incredibly chiselled physique. Want me to leave him a message?" she adds casually, trying to sweep away in two sentences any notion of Rachel's that she was actually _familiar_ with Brody, or that she ever even stood a _chance_.

Rachel's arrogance (and naivety) is outstanding, though, and she can't quite comprehend the idea of her precious boy-toy doing the dirty behind her back.

"I-I'm sorry I don't understand," she stammers, and Cassie relishes what comes next.

"Ah, let's see," she begins teasingly. "You blew off your play date with the hottest piece of ass at NYADA to go visit your loser ex-boyfriend. Said hot ass was lonely, distraught… didn't know what to do with himself… and was _more _than happy to help me choreograph a routine when I called him up. And then one thing led to another and next thing you know he's at my place and… you know…"

There's a pregnant pause, and she hears Rachel take a shaky breath on the other end of the phone, like she's playing the part of a tragic high-school heroine.

"So… you and Brody?" she says tearfully. "_Why?"_

Well, she asked.

And Cassie needs to spit out some of that venom, some of that sting of Rachel choosing that stupid, _stupid _boy and then daring to make her feel more humiliated than anyone has in a long, long time.

"Why don't we consider this one of those _nasty_ life lessons. Auditioning for an off-Broadway play… _Throwing_ yourself at an upper-classman?"

It's ridiculous, and she knows it. She pushes her students beyond their limits and encourages them to do the same for themselves, but she still manages to make it sound like Rachel's being idiotic. She's outright _lying_ at the second part, but she knows Rachel's insecurities will make her believe it, if only for a moment.

"And then telling me that… _I _need to get back in the game?" she laughs incredulously, because it _is_ ridiculous. Who is this girl, this aggravating, deluded, arrogant, girl to make any assumptions about Cassie's career? "I'm- _I _need to get back in the game?! I think you were overreaching and needed a little bit of a reminder. I _am_ the game, Schwimmer," she tells her, and in that moment she almost believes it. "And you are what you've always been. A privileged, self-indulgent, dime-a-"

The phone goes dead. Cassandra pauses for a moment in disbelief, and then laughs.

_She's won_.

She lies still on the bed, heart hammering with adrenaline. She has to fight the urge to phone Rachel up and torture her some more she feels so smarted at being hung up on, but her pride stops her and she throws the phone across the room instead.

Then she leans back and smiles in satisfaction as she replays her last words to Schwimmer… _how _long has she wanted to throw that reality in her face, _christ_. Her whole body is buzzing with alcohol and endorphins and a hundred different competing emotions, but she can pick out a tiny glint of hope… that maybe she'll feel a little less shitty about herself.

Then Brody walks back into the room and it hits her how much she's just sold herself for revenge and she honestly nearly heaves and she knows she hasn't drunk enough yet to cause that.

"You need to leave," she tells him, sitting up, and she looks startled.

"OK…" he says slowly.

"I have stuff to do tomorrow," she adds, by way of explanation. "Nothing personal," she smiles. He nods, and quickly gathers his things. Cassie's breath hitches when he picks up his phone, but he notices nothing.

"You can let yourself out," she tells him sweetly, sliding back onto the covers. He looks at her strangely for a moment.

"Cassie…" he begins, and she raises an eyebrow and wonders if he's actually going to confront how much she's just used him.

(Maybe it'll make her forget how much she's used herself.)

He's always been spineless, though, so he shakes his head and says, "Nothing," then leaves.

She should probably feel victorious, she thinks, but she really just feels kind of vague and light and empty, with a dull nausea in the pit of her stomach, which is how she knows she basically just needs another drink.


	4. Chapter 4

**This is where we head off into AU... I hope it was worth the wait :)**

* * *

So.

She's pretty much not hated herself this much since she lashed out at Carmen, three weeks after she'd given her a job. It's not that she thinks stealing Brody from Rachel was a _bad_ thing – because, well, she fucking deserved it, for a whole bunch of reasons Cassie just doesn't want to think about anymore.

But having sex with Brody when it was so blatantly about someone else makes her feel so fucking used, despite the fact that _she_ was the one doing the using. And yeah Brody is one smoking piece of ass, but she didn't do it for _herself_; she did it for Rachel. She never, ever lets anyone have control of her body or her emotions, and she hates that somehow it's _Schwimmer_ who's got the better of her.

She doesn't stop drinking all weekend, and wakes up feeling like absolute death Monday morning. She knows Brody doesn't believe her when she calls asking him to cover – he is her TA, after all – but she just doesn't want to face Rachel, or the world, today. She can barely face herself.

Besides, she knows Rachel's probably been furiously ignoring Brody and will continue to do so unless she's literally forced into confronting him; and she basically wants to make sure he never comes near her again, which is guaranteed to happen after Rachel flips her shit and opens her big mouth.

Tuesday comes and she still feels absolutely fucking _horrific_, and it's only about 30% due to alcohol, but she can't palm off her Freshmen with Brody two days in a row, so she steals herself and spends an extra half hour on her makeup just to make sure she looks fucking _perfect_.

And of course Schwimmer doesn't even show – Cassie stalks into class, and looks around after a moment when she doesn't see her eager head bobbing around. She shrugs it off as lateness, but by fifteen minutes in it's clear Schwimmer's apparently got better things to do than attend Cassie's lessons.

She fumes all Thanksgiving break, passing the holiday in a haze of alcohol. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows she hasn't been this bad since her twenties; but she just doesn't have it in herself to care. She gets angrier and angrier as she paces – often stumbles – around her loft, rerunning her confrontations with Rachel in her mind.

_"_ _I just thought you maybe might wanna get back in the game…"_

_"I promised Rachel that I would help her out…"_

_"_ _So… you and Brody? Why?"_

She hurls an empty bottle of Malibu across the loft and grits her teeth as it smashes, before a sob forces itself up her throat and she crumples to the floor, her chest heaving and shaking as she cries so hard she can barely breathe. She pounds her hands violently against the floor before she gives in and cries more than she has in the last ten years.

* * *

She collapses in her bed at some point around 3am, exhausted, her chest in _agony_ and with the only clear thought in her mind that she _has to beat Rachel._

* * *

Cassie surveys herself in the mirror the next morning, and smirks. She's pretty much never been this determined to achieve something since she was twenty three. She pulls her hair tight away from her face in a way that she knows looks both intimidating _and_ gorgeous, and smirks at herself in the mirror.

She has it all planned before Rachel even walks into the classroom. She sets her students a particularly difficult, strenuous set of exercises and waits, Cassie's unusual silence drawing out a growing apprehension from Rachel, if the unnerved glances she keeps throwing her across the dance hall are any indicator.

In the end, though, Cassie can barely manage fifteen minutes until the desire to tear Rachel down overwhelms her, and she winds her way slowly through the students towards her prey. She surveys Rachel's dancing, unashamedly checking out her ass as she runs her eyes down her body; and there it is again, that familiar rush. Rachel eyes her nervously as she gets closer and she tries not to smirk as she revels in the power she has over this girl. She gives out some kind of generic criticism and she's fully intending to draw this out as long as possible, but then Rachel gives in almost_instantly_ and Cassie kind of flips because _for fucks sake, _she's so tired of this now.

"Stop," she says in a bored voice. "Everybody stop. Because that's what happens when you're _thirsty_ on Broadway." She turns round to Rachel who's staring at her in shocked disbelief, and she kind of knows she's being petty and ridiculous, but she just doesn't give a fuck when Schwimmer deserves _everything_ she gets.

"I'm not being a diva, I'm just-I'm dehydrated," Rachel tries to tell her, but she gives up trying to justify herself because she knows as well as Cassie does this is just an excuse for something else.

It kind of comes out when Cassie scathingly puts down her attempts to compete with NYADAs reigning prodigy, and Cassie knows the rest of the class watching probably think this is some kind of bizarre insecure-off.

(It's truer than she wants to admit, but so are a lot of things when it comes to Rachel.)

"I've kept up with you!" Rachel insists, and Cassie freezes because she _knows_ Rachel's not talking about her dancing, and that's not a line she should fucking cross.

(Not in public. Not out loud.)

Rachel backtracks. "I just meant with everything that you've _thrown_ at me!"

Cassie whips round and dismantles her swiftly, and Rachel's face falls when Cassie makes it clear Rachel has _nothing_on her, because she's just fucking _doing her job_.

"It's not my fault you don't understand my methods," Cassie almost whispers, because this is not a conversation she wants anyone else to be party to.

"It's not my fault you can't see how good I've become," Rachel counters firmly, and yeah, Cassie will meet that challenge. And she knows _exactly_how.

"Chicago. Opening number. You familiar with it?"

Rachel shrugs.

"Anyone else here can join in if they like, but this is between the platypus and me."

Rachel actually fucking _laughs_ at that, and yeah, it's so on.

Rachel struts determinedly towards her as the opening chords ring out and she smirks, hands on hips before she silences her with a finger and makes it clear she and _only_ she is in control of this performance. As soon as the first notes leave her lips she slips into her role effortlessly, and damn she knows how good she is. She smirks as she draws cheers from the crowd of students around her but honestly, she could do this in her sleep. What Cassie focuses on is Rachel, smirking at her nonchalant shrug and watching for the reaction she _knows_ is coming.

She's spun round onto her male dancer's back and she turns and smoulders cheekily at Rachel, letting her know she can _never_beat this. It's not just her talent; it's her unabashed sexuality that makes Rachel so uncomfortable, the power her attraction to Cassie she can hold over her, what makes her bite her lip and look away as Cassie spreads her legs high in the air.

Cassie expects her to stumble in defeat after that, but when she turns round Rachel is dancing lightly towards her, and her confident demeanour slips for a moment as Rachel writhes across the floor and her heart skips a beat. And damn Rachel _knows_ as well, as she throws her hair over her shoulder and shoots Cassie a dark look. Cassie tries to keep her focus, standing firm with her hands on her hips as she eyes Rachel's dancing sceptically… but something in her expression draws out a smirk from Rachel, who pulls the hips of the girl in front towards her and _christ_Schwimmer thrusting amongst several scantily clad girls turns her on so much more than she should. Her heart hammers in her chest and her entire body tingles and when did Schwimmer get this _gay_?

Rachel grins at her and a smirk fights Cassie's pursed lips because there it is again, that little exchange of secrets that says Rachel knows _exactly_what she's doing to her, and she's determined to win this game just as much as Cassie is. It's not going to happen though; so Cassie smoulders back at Rachel and waits for her revenge. She can't take her eyes of her, though, and Rachel shimmies her chest towards Cassie she honest to god has to push her legs together to do something about the growing ache in between them. Rachel's confidence grows, as she shakes off her insecurities and starts to _perform_, throwing herself against the barre and letting herself be dragged across the floor, watching for Cassie's reaction.

But Cassie's already leapt over the barre and is ready to fight back, sweeping Rachel's writhing dancing aside as she performs a set of quick, intricate hops and turns across the dance floor, sliding down into her trademark splits. She smirks as she's pulled up from the floor because she_knows_ she's just hit Rachel's weak spot… but she smirk dies on her lips as she sees Rachel miming downing a shot as she sings _right up here is where I store the juice_and did she _really fucking go there?_

Rachel is deluded in her triumph as Cassie switches gears and slides a hand around her waist, and Rachel freezes. She can smell her perfume and sweat and something else and it's an overwhelming aphrodisiac as she drags Rachel across the floor, singing passionately to her as they go. She's not sure if it's Rachel's lack of technique or the full implication of the words _come on babe we're gonna brush the sky_ that has Rachel stumbling, but Cassie knows she's found her weakness. Her heart hammers at the proximity and her steely control snaps, and she knows that Rachel is her weakness too but she just doesn't _care_ when she's this close to her.

She spins a stunned Rachel out and then back towards her and shows her _exactly_ how good she is when she kicks her leg high in the air. Rachel's eyes darken and her mouth opens slightly and she looks _so_ turned on; and so Cassie turns and falls into her arms, Rachel's arms coming round to catch her and brushing her breasts at the same as Cassie just _collapses_ into her, skin on skin and Rachel's breasts dragging against her before she leaps away again and jumps into the arms of her waiting dancers. Rachel's left standing waiting on the floor, staring kind of dumbstruck at Cassie's body, and then she drops down and opens her legs to give Rachel such an unabashed view of her crotch she's basically offering herself to her then and there, and she grins as Rachel looks away in embarrassment, her cheeks glowing. Cassie grabs the dancers hands and somersaults under herself, but when she looks up it's in disbelief because Rachel just _walked away from her_.

She stalks after her as the music builds, _determined_ to have her before this is over and she circles her singing in her ear _no, I'm no one's wife_ but Rachel laughs as she refuses to be beaten and they fight each other note for note, spinning round the dance hall as the song reaches its climax. They turn to face each other, belting out the last note as Cassie pushes everyone away and she _knows_ she's won this.

The music ends abrubtly and it's just them less than a metre apart, panting at each other. Rachel's eyes are wild and her skin is flushed and Cassie has to take a deep breath to steady herself because she is literally a hair's breadth from publicly jumping her student. She surveys Rachel's body unashamedly, noting with pleasure just _how_turned on she is, and yeah, she's beaten her.

She tells Rachel as much before she moves away, closing her eyes for a second behind Rachel's back so she can't see just how much Cassie's control is hanging by a thread.

"Maybe you're right, maybe I'm not as good of a dancer as you are," Rachel concedes and that's just _hilarious_. "But I'm just as good of a singer," she adds, and there's nothing Cassie can say to that for a moment because she _knows_, uppity little bitch, that it's true. But she's not about to let Rachel have that; she's not going to be dismantled when she just so completely _dominated_ Rachel in that dance; and how does she still have any fight left? How is she not _begging_ at Cassie's knees by now?

"Do you think anyone in here believes that?" Cassie asks her, and it's a low blow, using the pretty worthless opinions of the crowd to get to Rachel. But it works, for a split second, and she fights on, "Because there's a big difference between self-confidence and _delusion_."

Rachel's looking at her feet and Cassie thinks for a split-second she's about to cry, but then she does something so completely unexpected.

"No one else has to believe it," she says softly and earnestly. "No one but me." And she smiles to herself, and Cassie can't help smiling slightly back in disbelief and awe (and admiration) that Rachel can remain so determinedly _believing_ in herself, despite the entire room being against her. She feels something shift, and she knows resolutely that Rachel hasn't been beaten. She hasn't been beaten at all.

"But thank you, you actually did teach me something," Rachel continues, and Cassie's eyes narrow slightly because she knows, she _knows_ that the slightest blow from Rachel would just cut her apart right now. But Rachel isn't thinking about Cassie.

"Which is that, if I'm going to win this showcase, the only way I'm going to do that is with my voice."

And she turns on her heel and walks out of the dance hall, leaving Cassie wonder bitterly how Rachel can leave this with so much damn integrity.

* * *

She spends most of the rest of the day in her office, lying on her sofa and playing with her cane as she replays the morning's heated lesson again and again in her head. She searches furiously through her memory for signs that Rachel had any attraction to her at _all_, but every time she grasps at something her mind just takes her back to the finite look on Rachel's face as she walked away from Cassie.

She expected a lot of things, but somehow she didn't expect _that_. Especially not even leaving in defeat… Rachel looked like she had _overcome_.

Cassie's frustration builds and builds, but somehow in the sober light of day, her mind is stubbornly holding out for Rachel, and it completely blindsides Cassie, because she doesn't even know what it's holding out _for_. She's always been good at figuring out what she's feeling about two seconds _after_ she's fucked everything up anyway; which is pretty much why she's shut off all emotions since they ruined her career.

She wasn't planning on going to the Winter Showcase at-fucking-all, but she needs to see Schwimmer. She needs to see what God-given talent she apparently has that made her confident enough to _walk out of Cassie's class_. Her stomach flips at the idea of seeing Rachel performing, which is just fucking great, so she goes home and starts getting ready, just to give herself some kind of distraction.

She takes like, five hours, but it's totally worth it, because she looks _incredible_, all old Hollywood glamour, because she knows that it's something Schwimmer would never be able to pull off… or expect her to be able to either, seeing as she's got like, 60% more skin covered than usual.

Cassie hides somewhere in the back of the Round Room, and plays with the long tassles on her dress as she tries not to look too bored. Then Carmen announces _Miss Rachel Berry_ and Cassie looks up with a start. What appears to be a small, brunette angel walks into the spotlight and beams shly at the audience, and Cassie's heart actually fucking stops.

She looks… _christ_. She looks _beautiful._

And then she starts to sing.

Cassie's entire body breaks out in goose bumps, as Rachel's voice rings out across the room with such finely tuned delicacy and accuracy that Cassie can barely believe she's looking at the same girl who stumbles over her pliés. Rachel is _transformed_; she entirely embodies the performance and she's clearly so entirely born to just stand _singing_ like this that Cassie can't actually breathe.

And she knows, she _knows_ that song is for her and her heart _hurts_, because Rachel apparently didn't forget her at all.

(She stood up and did exactly what Cassie expects of only the very best of her students and showed her _exactly_ what makes her so special; and that silent gift hits her so much more than any words do.)

The entire audience jumps to its feet in applause and it reminds Cassie so much of her youth that she actually has to bite her cheek in order to stop herself from crying. Rachel looks so completely astounded at the applause that for a moment Cassie is entirely racked with guilt. She desperately wishes Rachel would look over but at the same time the last thing she wants is to be seen like this. She closes her eyes from a moment and steels herself, pushing her emotions back down far inside.

(It's not nearly far enough.)

Rachel wins, obviously, and she just about keeps her jealously in check until Rachel's flatmate and _Brody_ throw themselves at her and yeah – she just can't watch that. She slides out the door as the crowd begins to disperse, walking as fast she can through the back of the school just to get_away._

"Cassandra?"

Cassie stops in her tracks and whips round to see Rachel hurrying up behind her. Rachel's eyes widen suddenly as they rake over Cassie's body, her pace slowing to almost a halt.

"I… wow. You look," Rachel shakes herself, and then says earnestly, "You look really beautiful."

Cassie stands impassively.

"What do you want, Schwimmer?" she asks coldly. "Have you come to wave your little trophy at me?"

"I just wanted to say thank you," Rachel tells her, with a kind of shrug. "Because I could never have got this without you. All the... shouting and the criticism, it's made me into the performer I am today."

Cassie snorts at that, because _seriously_.

"Schwimmer, all the plastic trophies in the world are not going to negate your arrogance that _far_ exceeds your level of a talent."

Rachel growls and something seems to kind of snap.

"Why are you being so _unreasonable_? You know what, you are kidding yourself if you think this is just about doing your job!" Rachel cries. Cassie's eyes narrow and Rachel has the decency to look a little scared.

"What are you suggesting?" Cassie says slowly, her heart hammering because is Schwimmer _really_going to fucking go there?

"Nothing," Rachel backtracks, and her heart sinks a little. "I just…" she pauses, rolling her eyes at herself, but then she seems to gain some kind of guts from nowhere and looks Cassie straight in the eye and says, "You know I just thought that we were… but it's just me being ridiculous, as if I could ever be good enough for _Cassandra July_."

Cassie _freezes_, staring in cold disbelief at Rachel because she _can't_ mean… But Rachel angrily brushes her hair aside and rolls her eyes again, and she honestly has absolutely no fucking _idea_ what Rachel has just said to her but she needs to do _something_ about all the emotions that are about to boil over inside her so she takes two steps forward to grab Rachel's head roughly between her hands and pull her mouth towards her.

It's absolutely the right thing to do, because Rachel just _melts_ into her and wraps her arms around Cassie's waist, kissing her fiercely back. It's hot and wet and so un-coordinated because there's so much Cassie just _needs_ and all at once, and Rachel seems to feel it to as she kisses Cassie just as passionately back, her arms running over Cassie's back and squeezing at her bum until she actually _groans_ and grinds her hips against Rachel's. She can feel Rachel grinning against her lips as she pulls Cassie impossibly closer and she spares a brain cell to revel in the fact that Rachel wants this just as much as she does.

"Come on," says Cassie breathlessly, breaking the kiss. Rachel's lips are pouting and bruised and her hair is a mess from where Cassie's hands have been through it and she's just panting at her with wide, dark eyes and Cassie needs her _alone_ and _now_.

"Do you have any plans tonight?" Cassie asks her as she leads her quickly out the back of NYADA.

"Um, I…" Rachel says huskily, but doesn't seem capable of forming anything coherent. Cassie smirks.

"Because you might want to call and let them know it's not happening," Cassie tells her, sticking out her hand for a cab and then pulling Rachel flush towards her. "Unless you have any objections?" she asks sultrily, cocking an eyebrow.

"God no," Rachel breathes, and it's just about the sexiest thing Cassie's ever heard.

* * *

Cassie's imagined having sex with Rachel – god, _so _many times now – but none of her fantasies ever captured exactly how she feels now, this need to _devour_ her that overwhelms absolutely everything else.

Cassie tugs her roughly into the loft and barely slams the door shut before she pushes her back against the wall, hands running up Rachel's sides. Rachel grabs at her butt and she moans into her mouth, hips pressing together as they grind against the wall.

"God Cassie," Rachel gasps as Cassie moves to suck and nip at her neck, and Cassie growls.

"Say that again," she orders huskily, tucking at Rachel's ear, and when she does, Cassie hitches Rachel's dress up, wraps her arms round her waist and lifts her up effortlessly. Rachel laughs breathlessly as she throws her legs and arms round Cassie, kissing her hotly. They stumble across Cassie's loft to her bedroom, where Cassie dumps Rachel somewhat unceremoniously on her bed, before stepping back to peel off her dress.

When she's done she looks up at Rachel, only to see her lying frozen on the bed, staring with wild eyes at Cassie's naked form, her mouth hanging slightly open. Cassie smirks, and, yeah, she's seen Rachel stare before, but not like _this_. She feels her breath catch in her throat for a moment, before she remembers she has a task in hand.

"Enjoying the view, Schwim?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow, and then crawls onto the bed and slides up Rachel's body until her hairs falling down to brush at Rachel's cheeks.

"Well, I think you owe me. After all the times I've caught you checking out my ass in the mirror," Rachel tells her smoothly.

_That little bitch_.

Cassie's eyes narrow and she swoops down to bite Rachel's bottom lip before darting out her tongue to soften the sting. Rachel gasps and pulls Cassie down closer, but she's pretty much had enough of Rachel being fully clothed by now.

"Off," she orders breathlessly, tugging at Rachel's dress. They pull it up over Rachel's hips but she slaps at Cassie's hand.

"Careful! It cost me $300 to rent!"

Cassie rolls her eyes, because she owns like, _jumpers_ that cost that. But then Rachel slides the silky fabric up over her head and Cassie's left breathless because of _course_ Rachel's not wearing a bra. Rachel stares up at her with wide eyes and she just looks so _open_, so ready to absolutely give herself to Cassie like she's been preparing herself for this moment all along.

Cassie leans down to kiss her before her emotions overwhelm her completely, hands running up Rachel's body to rub at her breasts. Rachel arches up into Cassie's hand and she dips her head down to suck at Rachel's nipple, her tongue drawing tight circles as her hand runs over the soft skin.

Her breasts are _perfect_, and Cassie licks and nips like she's worshipping them. Rachel unravels at her hands, gasping and moaning as a light sheen of sweat appears on her heaving chest. It's like a drug, and all Cassie can think is _I need more_.

Cassie's fingers begin to tiptoe down Rachel's side, followed by her mouth, and Rachel's breathing becomes more erratic as she gets lower and lower. She can _smell_ her now, nipping a path down the inside of Rachel's thigh. Her hands tug at Cassie's hair as she arches up more violently, stretching her legs wide in desperation.

"Oh my god _Cassie_," Rachel wails in desperation, as Cassie blows gently over her soaking underwear. Hearing Rachel say her name like that with such unbridled want just does something to her, and she leans forward to run her tongue flatly up Rachel's crotch, who lets out a kind of sob. It's the best kind of torture, and part of Cassie wants to see how far she can take that, but…

She basically rips Rachel's underwear off and goes down, sliding her tongue slowly over Rachel, who shakes with need. She licks deeper and longer as Rachel's hands wind through her hair, throwing a leg over her shoulder, and then Cassie moves up to suck on Rachel's clit _hard_ and Rachel screams. Cassie rolls her tongue over in tight circles, Rachel undulating against her face with harsh whimpers and groans.

Rachel's entirely at her mercy, her whole body writhing as she desperately tries to get off and _christ,_she didn't think Schwimmer could actually get any sexier, but it's basically one of the best things she's ever seen. She knows, she _knows_ that no one could ever do this for Rachel like she does, and she wants Rachel to know it too.

She's so close now, her whole body drawn up tense and shaking as her whimpers get higher and higher. Cassie slides two fingers into where she's hot and tight and curls them _torturously_ back out again, and Rachel falls apart, clenching and spasming around her as she screams Cassie's name. She keeps sucking and licking until Rachel rides out her orgasm, and lies limp and damp against the covers with an arm thrown up behind her, panting.

Cassie moves back up her body to kiss her, hovering over her breathlessly as she stares down at Rachel, somehow terrified for a moment that she wasn't goodenough. Rachel's looking back up at her in a kind of wonderment, like she's got a thousand questions running through her mind, but Cassie leans down and kisses her deeply before she has a chance to ask them. It seems to be enough for Rachel, who runs a hand softly over Cassie's shoulder, and then without warning pushes her over until Rachel's on top of her, her knee pressing up against Cassie's damp crotch.

"So Miss July," Rachel husks in her ear, and Cassie lets out a low chuckle as she pushes her hips down against Rachel's leg. "How exactly is my body moving now?"

Cassie actually fucking _growls_ as something just takes hold of her at that, and she pushes Rachel back under her and slides two fingers into her_hard_. Rachel kind of yelps and gasps, and looks up at Cassie with those wild eyes again, before she rams her hips down and her head tips back against the pillow. She fucks her, hard and fast, leaning into her shoulder as she uses the fall force of her body to draw out the whimpers and groans that she's suddenly become so addicted to. Then she feels Rachel hand push at her legs which kind of part instinctively, and when she slides two fingers in and curls upwards Cassie nearly fucking _collapses._

Rachel drags them out torturously slowly and Cassie fucking whimpers, before Rachel slams them back in again and fucks her determinedly. It's like some kind of twisted power struggle, matching each other thrust for thrust as they stare at each other, and Cassie _always_ wins, except she's so fucking close already and then Rachel kind of twists her fingers and _oh christ._

She screams as she comes so hard she can barely _breathe_, thrusting hard against Rachel's hand and she kind of distantly feels her come apart underneath her own fingers as she spasms. They collapse onto each other, completely spent as Cassie slides her sticky fingers up Rachel's body to rest against her breasts.

They don't say anything for a full ten minutes – and figuring out how to finally shut Schwimmer up is just _another_ reason she should have been doing this ages ago.

"I actually thought you were going to kill me at one point," Rachel says eventually, absent-mindedly playing with Cassie's hair - which, what?

Cassie chuckles, and slides off Rachel to lie next to her. She still has one arm round her, and Rachel rolls over and kind of nestles into her, throwing a leg over her waist. Cassie freezes for a moment, but she can still feel how hot and wet Rachel is against her thigh, and she's_exhausted,_ so she leaves it.

* * *

Cassie wakes up in the morning to an empty bed.

Her heart actually _clenches_ when she realises, and then relief washes over her because that's one morning-after minefield she just does not want to navigate. She lies back against the pillow, kind of grinning to herself, and completely ignores the heavy feeling settling in her chest that it was apparently just a massive fucking mistake to Rachel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed and commented so far, it's really spurred me on to write faster, so keep them coming!**

**Also, a special thank you to semixtina and texaswatermelon, whose help with Faberry/Julyberry has been invaluable.**

* * *

Rachel doesn't cry. She doesn't cry in the taxi on the way home (because _god_ knows she can't take the Subway in this dress); she doesn't cry when she's in the shower and discovers all the ways that Cassie's marked her skin; she doesn't cry when Kurt doesn't probe about where she went the night before but just asks if she's _ok_; she doesn't cry when she's in the plane flying away from New York and the whole mess of her life she's made this term.

It's not until late that night when she's rifling through her nightstand that she finds a plane ticket from New York to Columbus for _Miss Schwimmer_ and she breaks down and _sobs_.

* * *

Her first weeks in New York are scary and confusing and really kind of lonely, but she's living a few subway stops away from Broadway and it's basically her _birth right_. So she keeps her chin held high and promises herself she'll settle in in no time.

NYADA is… interesting. It's nothing like what she'd expected (she'd had some kind of lame fantasy that she'd never admitted to _anyone_ that she'd sort of walk in and be recognised instantly as someone who belonged, but it hasn't really worked like that. Not yet, anyway). She barely sleeps the night before classes begin, but when she cautiously makes her way towards one of the dance halls Monday morning, she reassures herself that she's been dancing since she could _walk_, and she'll obviously be fine. It almost works until she reaches the dance hall, and feels more than she has at any point in New York that she's stepped into a different world.

Her dance teacher is _gorgeous_; Hollywood, red carpet, traffic collision-causing gorgeous. Her long, wavy blonde hair and perfect make-up are not so different from some of the more glamorous women Rachel's ogled on the streets of New York; but the way she saunters around the classroom with the lazy grace of a panther, surveying her terrified students with sharp, devastatingly sexy eyes that Rachel's sure capture every tiny error… she's like no one Rachel's ever met before.

It's incredibly intimidating, but she's never been one to back down from a challenge, so she lifts her chin and sets herself the challenge of impressing her teacher. As the class begins though, it becomes increasingly obvious that Cassandra July is impressed by _no one_, and instead seems to take some kind of sick joy in wielding her power over her students with vicious taunts.

(Rachel's heard about teachers like these from the NYADA forums, and it's always struck her as _incredibly_ pathetic.)

When Cassandra makes a ridiculously unprofessional jibe at a girl in front of her, Rachel can't help but roll her eyes, confident she's away from Cassandra's scrutinising gaze. But Cassandra really _does _notice everything, and moments later she's being circled with the fall force of Cassandra's intense examination. She's even more intimidating up close, where Rachel can smell the scent of her perfume and see the faintest flush from the late summer heat on her exposed chest, and Rachel's heart hammers.

"Little Miss… David Schwimmer," Cassandra christens her, with an all too knowing glint in her eyes, like she's seen through Rachel's pretences already.

Rachel honestly doesn't think it can get much worse, but a day later she opens her mouth without thinking and suddenly her teacher's launching into the most overwhelming display of raw sexuality she's ever seen in her life. She's basically _trapped_ on her own bearing the full force of it, and it's not just awkward, it's terrifying.

She doesn't know what she's seeing or feeling throughout the whole dance; she doesn't know where to look or what to think, because Cassandra's being dragged across the floor and throwing her legs open and rolling her hips and tossing her hair and it all seems to be directed at _her_.

It's almost like Cassandra knows a secret Rachel's been keeping for a long, long time, shooting her saucy grins across the room as she gleefully exploits it. There's a look in Cassandra's eyes that says _you can't even begin to imagine what I could do to you_, and Rachel's honestly never been more intimidated by anyone in her life.

It doesn't stop Rachel from trying to impress her, though, because her defining characteristic (aside from her voice) is her inability to be beaten by adversity.

But Cassandra isn't fazed, isn't as impressed as every other teacher she's ever met, isn't worn down by Rachel's relentless, earnest efforts. She throws a few scraps of approval here and there, just when Rachel feels like she's clinging on for dear life, and it's enough to make her renew her efforts to climb right to the top.

(She puts the shivers she gets whenever Cassandra leans too close down to nerves, and her continued presence in her thoughts down to a desire to impress her, and wonders faintly what Quinn would do if she were here.)

* * *

The most ridiculous thing is that she could possibly think that with one time she'd just get _over_ it; that she'd stop staring at Cassie's legs in class and stop thinking about them the entire Subway journey home and stop having to get herself off every night because she's so damn _frustrated_.

She'd imagined sleeping with Cassie a thousand times over but in none of her fantasies had Cassie ever been… _god_ so unashamedly _worshipping_ of her. She didn't expect Cassie to make her feel so incomparably beautiful, or for her to be so desperate to rack her entire body with pleasure; she didn't expect to look up at Cassie's eyes to see them so brimming with emotions that they threatened to overspill in tears.

It's just too much, after weeks of being abused and criticised, her confidence undermined and driven to borderline paranoia about her talent. She doesn't know how to reconcile the woman who held her in such low-esteem she enjoyed toying with her mental state, with the one who sobbed Rachel's name as she came and clung onto her so hard she left bruises.

She woke up halfway through the night with her body entwined with Cassie's, snuggling into each other and it was just _suffocating_. So she slid out from underneath her, tugged on her dress and crept out the apartment; but not before she'd glanced back at Cassie peacefully asleep with a small smile tugging at her lips, and looking basically nothing like the woman she thought she'd known for four months.

* * *

When Kurt shows her the video of _Crazy July_ something clicks into place, and indignant anger grows inside her that Cassandra's being so _unreasonable_ just over petty bitterness and jealousy. She knows being 'sexy' isn't her strong point – god knows McKinley taught her that much – but she's nothing if not a natural born performer, and she's determined to give Cassandra a show good enough to convince her she's got what it takes to tango.

(It doesn't occur to her until she's running through outfit choices in front of her mirror that this is something of a _seduction_, but she pushes the thought to the back of her mind and concentrates on the various lipsticks in front of her.)

She _knows_ she looks good; she doesn't need Brody's stammering greeting to tell her, but it makes her blush and smile shyly anyway. But Cassandra shatters any illusions of approval the moment Rachel walks in the door, and it's all Rachel can do not to cry out in frustration.

She doesn't miss the flicker of jealously in Cassandra's eyes when she sees Brody helping her, nor the thinly veiled rapport between the two of them.

(Something about that makes her want Brody even more; because why should _Cassandra July_ have everything?)

Performing in front of Cassandra is _hard_, so much harder than she thought it would be; so much more nerve-wracking, somehow, than Nationals, when she was performing to a crowd of hundreds. Maybe it's the force of Cassandra's undivided attention, the carelessly dismissive way she regards Rachel as she toys with her cane, as if she already knows where this performance is headed. Rachel focuses, though, and once the song builds up and she's able to show off her voice, her confidence grows a little and she relaxes into the song.

And maybe she's imagining it, but Cassandra starts to look a little… transfixed. Every time Rachel looks over she notices Cassandra's narrowed eyes are becoming more and more glassy and unfocused, and her steely control seems to be waning a little as she wriggles around in her seat. Some part of Rachel not focussed on performing registers it as attraction, and it spurs her on even more. She writhes on tables and grinds up against Brody in an attempt to break through Cassandra's control and finally impress her; and when she finishes breathlessly, she honestly thinks she's done it.

So when Cassandra effortlessly, cruelly dismantles her _again_…

She snaps.

She's just spent the past four minutes trying to prove to Cassandra she's _not that innocent_, but it's the brutally accurate attack that demonstrates that, and when Cassandra's jaw sets in fury she's honest to god _terrified_. Literally, rooted to the spot in fear, and it's not until she's yelled at a second time she actually moves.

Brody comforts her after class and insists it's not as bad as she thinks; that Cassie's (Cassie?) like an explosion if you push the wrong buttons, but she always calms down when the adrenaline's worn off and stops caring after a few days.

Rachel somehow doesn't think Cassandra's going to stop caring from the sheer fury that seemed to be emanating from her in that classroom. She knows she's overstepped a line, just as she did so many times at McKinley, so she does what she became so accustomed to doing then; sucks up her pride, and goes to apologise.

It's not at _all_ how she expected, because Cassandra – Cassie – is somehow so much softer and more human on her own, and she just wanted things too much, like Rachel does.

(For a moment she thinks they're kind of alike, which terrifies her and exhilarates her at the same time.)

The atmosphere in the room has taken on a strangely intimate vibe, and when Cassie shoots her a warm smile, like she's part of some private joke, Rachel's heart skips a beat. Cassie beckons her over to help her stretch, and Rachel's so scared she feels like she's treading on egg shells. It's partly because she doesn't know whether she's about to be chucked out of class for good, but…

She's basically being invited into the personal space of this flawlessly gorgeous woman – and she _knows_ it's just stretching – but she just can't help staring at the body she's now moving her hands over, and somewhere in the back of her mind she feels like that's what Cassie wants.

(And even though she hesitates when Cassie waves at her to move her hands onto her _butt_, she can't deny that she's kind of curious.)

It's entirely unchartered territory for Rachel, and she honestly has no idea what's about to happen next. But then Cassie gives her a second chance and dismisses her almost affectionately, and it's not until she's leaving she realises how much she wants Cassie to let her stay.

When she goes home that night she spends the evening revaluating her dance wear, and picks out the few things she thinks Cassie would deem acceptable. She hesitates for a moment when she surveys herself in the mirror the next morning, hair perfectly waved around her shoulders and bright red lipstick lining her lips, and wonders exactly who she's turning into. Then she purses her lips and lifts her chin, and heads out to continue her fight.

A few days later Cassie sends one of the best dancers in the class over to her, and it takes a few seconds before she realises he's asking to dance with _her_. She shoots Cassie a shy smile as she's led across the dance floor, which she could have sworn Cassie returned, before she relaxes into the dance, and for the rest of lesson, almost forgets about Cassie altogether.

Rachel's buzzing all the way home, and every time she glances at her reflection in the subway window she has to bite back a grin. Something inside of her readjusts and it gives her enough confidence to paint over the large _Finn_ on the wall of their loft that evening.

* * *

Rachel spends her first night back in Lima tossing and turning in her sheets, until she finally falls into a fitful sleep around 4am. She dreams of Cassie, grinning up at her from in between her legs as waves of pleasure wash over her.

"God Schwimmer, you look like a constipated _cow_," Cassie laughs, and Rachel looks up to see her moving away from her in disgust, leaving Rachel lying naked in the middle of the classroom as her classmates burst into taunting laughter.

"Well, what did you expect?" Cassie cackles.

Rachel wakes up with a gasp, panting and sweating. She clutches her chest in horror for a moment, until her brain catches up with reality. Then she curls back up under her covers and lies in vain trying to sleep, until her dads come and wake her a few hours later. If they notice how exhausted she looks, they don't ask, and Rachel doesn't volunteer anything.

She couldn't tell them, obviously. She couldn't tell Kurt, she couldn't tell _anyone_ what had happened, because who could possibly understand? _I know my dance teacher's been slowly tearing my self-confidence to shreds for the past term but she fucked me like she never wanted to do anything else again and I'm starting to feel like maybe I don't want her to_.

Some part of her knows not one of her friends would even think about judging her; but she just can't quite admit what she's been in denial about for months now is actually a real, tangible thing that she's completely overwhelmed by.

* * *

Rachel's desire to impress Cassie doesn't dwindle after some – albeit small – recognition. She works harder than ever, dancing late into the evening when the dance hall is empty and no one's around to judge her.

Cassie's still as intimidating as ever, but something about the softer side she revealed to her that afternoon makes Rachel feel like she's been let in on a little-known secret. She can't forget the smile Cassie beamed at her over her shoulder, or her determination to make sure Rachel didn't make the same mistakes she had.

But more than anything Rachel can't forget the swirling pit of nerves in her stomach when a stretching Cassie beckoned her over, or the feeling of heat rushing to her cheeks when she pressed down on Cassie's hips, or how she couldn't help but _stare_ when Cassie's butt was suddenly right in her face. She knows by now that Cassie isn't only well aware of the effects of her sexuality, but uses it mercilessly to her advantage; and she can't quite shake the feeling that Cassie was kind of… _pushing_ her somewhere she wasn't entirely sure she was opposed to going.

Something sort of changes after that afternoon, though, and it seems so natural but so disconcerting all at once that Rachel really doesn't know what to do with it.

She's got no real frame of reference, so she can't tell for sure if the way Cassie so casually invades her personal space every time she adjusts Rachel's frame; the way her fingers sometimes linger a little longer than seems _strictly_ necessary; the way she stares so intensely at Rachel she feels as if she's naked in the middle of the dance hall; if any of these things _mean_ anything. But whatever it is, she doesn't want it to stop.

(She thinks back to the strokes and caresses Brittany and Santana used to exchange in the choir room, but this is nothing like that, it's nothing like that at all.)

The more she's around Cassie, though, the more she can't help but stare. It doesn't bother her, because girls have always been pretty, and she's always liked to look. Sometimes Cassie catches her, though, and the almost imperceptible smirk tugging at her lips makes Rachel feel like she's entering into a game where she knows absolutely none of the rules.

* * *

She sees her closest friends in phases, because she feels so conflicted about so much now that she actually needs time to gain strength before the next emotional upheaval.

The first of which is Quinn, who appears at her front door the day after Rachel gets back, beaming. She's always looked mature, and she's _always_ looked beautiful, but there's something in her easy expression that tells Rachel she's kind of settled into herself.

"I've missed you so much!" Rachel cries, tackle hugging her. Quinn laughs.

"Me too, where have you been stranger?" she asks, poking her in the ribs. It's jokey, but Rachel can see the slight hurt in Quinn's eyes and a wave of guilt hits her.

"Quinn I'm so sorry, this term has just been…"

She gestures wildly with her hand, and Quinn seems to understand.

"Tell me everything about New York," she says, when they sit down on Rachel's bed. It's so like the last few months of living in Lima, when Quinn used to come over to her house more and more and Rachel would find herself bearing all her secrets and worries and hopes without even realising.

She looks up at Quinn, and she wants _desperately_ to tell her about Cassie; but she can't fight the feeling it would be revealing some kind of betrayal, and the words just die in her throat.

(She should be so much more surprised than she is, that this feeling is just another she's been running away from.)

So she tells her almost everything else, instead, and it's so easy and Rachel finds herself filled with the kind of airy happiness she always gets around Quinn. For a little while she really is back in Lima, in a safe, rosy bubble.

"Actually, I've kind of been seeing someone," Quinn says slowly, with a small smile.

The bubble pops.

"Oh, Quinn, that's amazing!" Rachel says, trying for a smile, but it's been too long since she's had to play this game and she knows she's not convincing at all. "Who is he, what's he like?"

"She's actually a girl," Quinn says quietly, and something in Rachel's heart kind of explodes and her ears are buzzing so loud she hears basically none of what Quinn's now gabbling out.

"… but she's so nice, I'd love you guys to meet," Quinn finishes, smiling shyly at Rachel.

"Yeah, of course!" Rachel insists, promising to come and visit Yale as soon as she can.

Quinn doesn't leave til gone midnight, and Rachel stays awake for hours after that, leaning her pounding head against the cool glass as she tries to reconcile the feeling that she'd wanted something so much without even _realising_, with one that the moment's kind of slipped by without her even noticing.

The space waiting in Rachel's life that was waiting to be filled by Quinn has morphed into a space waiting for something else, and she just can't pretend anymore that it's Brody.

* * *

New York rewrites everything she'd ever been so sure about before. Like, talent is more important than looks. In NYADA, everyone's talented, and being able to sing just isn't good enough anymore.

And it's _not_ just about Cassie. She's just so tired of being judged before she's able to open her mouth and prove how good she is. And honestly, she's always promised herself she'd do almost anything to break into the business, and a little makeover isn't against any of her ethical principles; it's just another way of helping her get ahead in an industry that is so _incredibly_ shallow and judgemental.

(NYADA has taught her that much.)

She knows how good she looks, and when she glances in the mirror as she's stretching and tousles her hair, she feels like she can _almost_ compete with Cassie.

(The look on Cassie's face when she walks into class the next day, is memorable, to say the least. Even more so is the feeling of Cassie's fingers just _brushing_ her crotch as she holds herself in the splits, and Rachel wonders whether it's some twisted sign of approval.)

Brody seems to approve, too.

"I think it's the other way around. I think now, your outside has caught up to how you feel about yourself," Brody tells her, and for a second she almost believes him. He's so into her, and she's starting to give way a little more each day, because when she's around him she actually _feels_ like the girl he seems to see her as; instead of the lonely, scared and insecure girl she feels the rest of the time.

It's all going so perfectly until Finn turns up at her door.

* * *

Finn takes her out for coffee at the Lima Bean a few days later, which is so mature it surprises her. It's polite and awkward and he looks at her like he doesn't even know her anymore; which is entirely true and untrue at the same time. So much of her just wants to throw herself into his arms and cry in their relative safety, because after all this time he's _still_ the one she associates that with. She's so close to spilling her secrets out to him, but then she captures a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror – meticulously groomed, because it's the only way she can feel in any kind of control over her life anymore – and remembers the girl she is on the inside isn't the same one that he sees her as, not now.

(She doesn't know if she's lying to everyone else about who she is now, or if she's spent her entire life previously lying to herself.)

* * *

With Finn comes the feeling of familiarity, and something that she can _control_. She pushes back her anger and hurt because she so desperately wants the security of having her boyfriend with her to share her new life with.

She _loves_ showing him off round NYADA. She feels a sense of beautiful triumph when he spends her entire dance class watching her in awe, and she doesn't miss the vaguely nauseous look on Cassie's face.

It almost works; until he runs away all over again, leaving her even more of a humiliated, scared little girl than before.

Except she's _not_, not entirely, not anymore. She's still bottom of her class and she's still terrified of Cassie; she's still unhappy when she looks in the mirror most days and she's still paranoid about her bitchy fellow students.

But she's survived. Two months in and she's still here, and she's finding her place in this whole new world and he's just not a part of it. Not anymore.

* * *

Mike holds a party the first weekend they're all back, and she discovers she's not the only one who's changed almost beyond recognition. Everyone who's left Lima has come back so much more mature and laid back and far too glamorous for a small mid-Western city; everyone except for Santana, who mostly just looks lost and confused.

"Heya," Rachel smiles, sidling up to her where she's pouring a large cup of punch. Santana turns round and her frowning face breaks out into a huge grin.

"Berry!" she cries, throwing her arms around her. Rachel laughs into the hug, nestling into Santana's shoulder for a moment.

"Drink?" she asks when they pull away.

"God yes," says Rachel, leaning against the table. Santana eyes her suspiciously.

"That level of enthusiasm definitely sounds like drama," she tells her, with a curious smirk. "_Do_ tell, Berry."

"Ok I definitely need a couple more drinks before I start sharing, Santana," Rachel laughs. Santana promptly hands her a shot and a slice of lemon, which Rachel rolls her eyes at, but gamely toasts her and downs it anyway, before grabbing her drink.

"So how's Kentucky?" Rachel asks. Santana kind of freezes, and Rachel wonders if there's something she's horrifically out of the loop about.

"It's great!" Santana says eventually, with about as much enthusiasm as people tend to express about Rachel's cooking. She kind of wants to pry, because she's barely spoken to any of her Lima friends this term and now she's back she somehow misses them _terribly_; but then Puck comes over to grab their hands and pull them off for a game of I have never, and Santana doesn't even hesitate.

(When Blaine shouts, "I have never found a woman attractive!" several shots later, the rush of alcohol is a nice balm to the clenching in her heart.)

* * *

She's so focused on her work for the second half of the semester she barely has time to _sleep_, let alone seriously consider dating anyone else. Cassie's pushing them harder than ever, but it works, because she lands her first audition.

Cassie overhears her talking about it, and appears almost out of nowhere in a way that sets Rachel's heartbeat on edge. The determination to impress her is still as strong as ever, though, and she's starting to feel confident enough in herself that maybe she has a _chance_.

So she fights back, and insists, "I can take it!"

(She blushes for a moment when she realises exactly what those words sound like, and even Cassie seems to pause.)

When she suggests Cassie auditions too, however, that confidence evaporates in a split second, and she's left wondering why she even tried to begin with.

(She tries not to notice the way Cassie simpers at Brody moments later, because he's _hers_, but she knows Cassie could snatch him away in a moment if she wished.)

There's something about Cassie which magnifies every single one of her insecurities, and she's torn between fighting determinedly against her and wanting to run to the hills (read: Finn, or lately, Brody.) Cassie offers her the perfect opportunity to do the latter a few days later, even if a considerable part of her wants Cassie to make her stay and fight.

She realises it's a mistake as soon as she sits down on her old bed, and the feeling only grows throughout the evening. She looks up onto the stage and all she can see is her and Finn and it's just _too much_, and she needs another escape to run to.

When Cassie answers the phone and gleefully realises her worst fears, the wave of jealously and hurt overwhelms her more than anything has in _years_. Hearing Cassie there, in her new, special safe place, so effortlessly taking what she wants when Rachel's still stumbling through her own insecurities makes her physically nauseous.

She knew, she _knew _Cassie would seek revenge after the cold, furious way she'd looked at her that lesson, but she can't understand why it's like this – why Cassie would stoop so low, take something she doesn't even want and make Rachel feel so _worthless_ when all she was doing was trying to help.

But something about the realisation of how petty and skewed Cassie's actions are gives Rachel an ounce of integrity, and the strength to hang up and silence Cassie's vicious summation of her, if only for a moment.

When she turns and looks at herself in the mirror the sobs come bursting out of her throat full force again, and it's such a painfully ironic reminder of all the times she was in here for the same reason because of Finn and Quinn. But now the make up running down her cheeks is so much heavier, the dress stained by tears so much more mature, and she doubles over against the sink because this just isn't supposed to _happen_ anymore, not in the new life and to the new person she's become.

(And that's just another reminder of Cassie all over again, laughing as she effortlessly sweeps away Rachel's attempts to keep up with her.)

* * *

The rest of the party are getting steadily more drunk, but Rachel's just starting to feel kind of claustrophobic, so she creeps out when no one's watching and goes to sit on the back porch, sipping slowly at her drink.

(Rum and some kind of fruit juice, because the smell takes her back to one late evening practice in Cassie's dance hall, and she's always been a sucker for twisted sentimentality.)

She's been outside for almost twenty minutes when she hears the door open and looks round to see Santana coming out of it.

"Oh, hey," she says when she notices Rachel. "Hey – are you, Rachel are you ok?" she asks, as Rachel tries to furtively wipe her eyes.

"Yeah I'm fine," Rachel replies, looking away, but her voice cracks on the last word and she can't quite stop her bottom lip from quivering.

"Ok, well you look like someone just told you Idina Menzel had her Tony redacted," Santana says slowly, coming to sit down next to her.

Rachel manages a tremulous smile before a sob forces its her throat, and she brings her hand up to her mouth to try and stop it.

"Hey!" says Santana instantly, wrapping her arms around her, and they're so warm and comforting and _safe_ in a way Rachel hasn't felt in such a long time that Rachel just gives in and weeps.

"It's ok, it's gonna be ok," Santana soothes, stroking her hair. Rachel briefly wonders when Santana got this good at comforting, and if it's anything to do with all her personal experience of sobbing her heart out.

She realises then that Santana of _course_ is the one person who could come close to understanding what's going through her head right now.

"I think, I think I like… my dance teacher and I… we…" she sobs out. "I thought she hated me, but then…. we _slept_ together and now I don't think she hates me at all. And it was just… it was just a _game_ that kept me distracted from Finn… except I've come home and seen Finn and it's just, it's just not what it was before…." Rachel cries, her voice hitching. Santana, to her credit, says nothing, but just keeps on soothing Rachel, her hand stretching down towards her shoulder as she strokes her.

"And then, this whole term…. I've started to think that maybe what I _thought_ I wanted wasn't entirely… she's just turned everything that I thought about myself on it's head," Rachel sniffs. "And all this time part of me was waiting for Finn…. But now I'm here I can't stop thinking about her." Rachel stares round bleakly at the night sky, specked with familiar stars that are one of the only things right now that seem to be constant between her old life and her new one.

"Ok, well, first of all," Santana begins cautiously, when Rachel seems to have calmed down a little. "Who you like, who you sleep with, it doesn't define who you are. You can sleep with your entire _school_, men and women, and that wouldn't make you any less of the overachieving, mouthy Broadway wannabe we have all come to know and love." Rachel snorts, wiping at her eyes.

"I just don't know what I want anymore," she says quietly, playing with her fingers.

"That's kind of… not surprising," Santana tells her, and Rachel turns to give her a quizzical frown. "Look, you've wanted to be in New York since you were winning your first toddler singing competitions, surrounded by Broadway divas and queens and people with personalities even bigger and more obnoxious than yours. It's where you belong," she says with a smile, and even in her emotional state Rachel can detect the wistful longing in Santana's tone. "And suddenly you're there, able to be yourself for the first time; except without all the limits of a high school in Lima. You're like a kid in a candy store with all these crazy sweets to choose from, and you don't know where to start."

Rachel laughs. "That sounds about right," she admits. "So which one do I pick?"

"Just try whatever looks good," Santana shrugs. "But like, _don't_ get chucked out of school," she adds.

"Well from what I've heard Cassie's slept with half the student body and none of _them_ have been expelled," Rachel says darkly, drawing her knees up to her shivering body to try and fight the familiar pang of jealousy; and that's just _another_ reason she knows sleeping with Cassie is such a bad idea, when she's merely another notch on her bed post.

(But then… oh god she doesn't even know anymore.)

"Wait," says Santana slowly. "Is this the same Cassie who Kurt told me slept with your latest man candy just to _spite_ you?"

"What – Kurt told you?!" Rachel asks indignantly.

"You were slightly less loud after _Grease_ than usual, I was worried," Santana says quickly, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Rach, obviously I trust your judgement, and I'm all for super hot anger sex, but please don't get involved with someone who doesn't respect you, ok? That's all I'm asking. Cassie, or… anyone."

"I won't," Rachel promises her, and heaves a huge sigh. "Thank you," she says, with a smile. "And… what you said about New York, that's true for a lot of people, you know. And you're totally welcome to visit anytime, for as long as you want."

The shy, grateful smile Santana gives Rachel in return makes her think that maybe, everyone's just as lost as she is.

* * *

She forgives Brody, partly because she doesn't want Cassie to win (and she knows that she doesn't have her kind of power, that pushing Brody away will just push him towards her); and partly because he talks to her in such a firm, authoritative manner about _adult relationships_ that she kind of accepts that this insecurity and jealously is just something she's going to have to deal with if she wants to be with someone like Brody.

And she does, she really does, because he's the perfect Broadway leading man for her new life and she knows how jealous he makes Finn and the flirty will-they-won't-they dynamic is so safe and familiar in a life that is a little bit more overwhelming every day.

It's nothing like her relationship with Cassie, which has ripped to shreds and reconstructed everything she thought about herself and her future and what she was and was not capable of in the space of three months.

(When Brody jokes about Cassie's ass she tries valiantly to hide how turned on she is at the memory, and pushes down any jealousy at Cassie choosing Brody over her because she's not so deluded into thinking she could ever possibly…)

* * *

Something kind of settles in Rachel after her talk with Santana, like she's reached some kind of small understanding with herself. It's enough for her to relax and enjoy the rest of Hanukah with her dads, and the days leading up to Christmas with whichever of her Glee friends happen to be around.

(More often than not, it's her, Santana and Quinn, and Rachel kind of wishes all of high school had been like this.)

Cassie doesn't disappear from her thoughts, though. If anything, she returns with a kind of new vigour and hope, and Rachel catches herself smiling dumbly in department stores when she smells Cassie's perfume and tracing over the fading bruises on her body in the shower.

She kind of starts daydreaming about the idea of sleeping with Cassie again. And then she starts _fantasising_ about it. And then it's all she can think about; and suddenly she just _needs_ to see her again. She needs to explain and maybe apologise and she doesn't even know what else, let alone if Cassie will even _give_ it to her.

(She forces herself not to think about how much that would kill her, and just follows her dramatic instincts.)

* * *

After Cassie blows off their first altercation after that heart breaking weekend, the idea of a full Cassie-free week becomes too appealing to miss, so Rachel misses her last dance class before Thanksgiving, and instead spends the day shopping for groceries with Kurt. He does most of the cooking on the actual day, thank goodness, which leaves her free to enjoy Brody's attention.

(She completely ignores the twinges she feels whenever she looks at Brody's hands and wonders what they did to Cassie.

She doesn't even know who she's more jealous of, any more, and that in and out of itself makes her so _angry_, because Cassie is hateful and spiteful, and she can't understand for the life of her why she finds her so goddamn attractive.)

When Carmen marches through her class, though, and hands her a ticket to her dreams, all thoughts of Cassie are swept from her mind with the feeling of _triumph_. She feels like she's walking on air the entire day, and Kurt and Brody take her out to Callbacks to celebrate. It all feels so perfect, and she can't quite believe this is her life now.

She thinks of Cassie's bitter, petty attempts at getting the better of her and a wave of triumph washes over her because this means _so_ much more. It lasts exactly three minutes into Cassie's next class, when she sets them the hardest sequence of exercises Rachel's faced all term, and she can barely stumble and gasp her way through them.

Cassie makes it even worse, watching not-so-surreptitiously from across the room, like she's waiting for the best moment to strike. When she does, it's so ridiculous that Rachel can barely believe it, but she sees pretty quickly through Cassie's façade to the jealously burning in her eyes. She's _tired_ of bearing the brunt of all Cassie's manipulative scheming, though; tired of facing her relentless assault on her dance ability, her emotions, her sanity…

"I've kept up with you!" Rachel insists shrilly. The look on Cassie's face is full of such furious indignation she backtracks, _fast_, "I just mean with everything you've _thrown_ at me."

But that just seems to make it worse, and Cassie looks at her like she's revealed some terrible secret.

"I don't throw things. I teach," she hisses. "Nothing I do here is random or unintentional." And Rachel feels like she's been stabbed in the heart, like Cassie's dismantled in one fell swoop any notion that some deeper meaning lay behind her actions.

It doesn't kill the fight in her, though. And even though she's _terrified_, she rises to meet Cassie's challenge. It takes all of her rigorous professionalism and training not to balk in the face of Cassie's unabashed sexuality _once again_, although she slips slightly when Cassie stretches her leg right back so she gets an unprecedented view of her crotch. The grin on Cassie's face tells Rachel she thinks she's won this already, but it gets wiped off pretty quickly when Rachel plays her at her own game.

The look of pure desire in Cassie's eyes when Rachel grabs the hips of the girl in front of her to thrust against sends a rush of heat straight between her legs, and as adrenaline rushes through her body she remembers _why_ she loves performing so much. She powers through the dance with confidence, withstanding Cassie's display of sheer talent, and maybe taking a jibe at her drinking is a low, low blow; but it works, momentarily, and she thinks she actually has a chance at winning.

But then Cassie's arm is around her waist, and she's singing _come on babe, we're gonna brush the sky_, and it's basically an open proposition and the pure desire and fear that shoots through her at that shatters her ability to perform completely. She's left to the mercy of Cassie and her seduction, and she can't even fight how much it turns her on anymore when Cassie kicks her leg high into the air in front of her face, and throws herself into Rachel's arms. Her hand brushes the underside of Cassie's breast as she catches her and she _likes_ it.

They've torn down almost every single boundary, and when Cassie falls down into the arms of her dancers with her crotch suddenly right in Rachel's face, it's such a blatant proposal of what she _could_ have that she looks away in embarrassment.

And honestly when they finish, panting, metres away from her, the look on Cassie's face makes Rachel think she's going to jump on her then and there. But she doesn't; because apparently this is all just an educational experience to her. And frankly, it's one Rachel's had enough off, because she knows she's _never_ going to win.

(She knows _exactly_ what song to sing at the Showcase; and when her heart drops when she can't see Cassie's face in the audience, she doesn't show it.)

But then she sees the swish of her hips disappearing out of the door, and something inside her just explodes with joy - which is _ridiculous_, and she knows it, but it doesn't stop her from running after Cassie. She's open and raw after her performance, and she's got nothing left to lose, so she takes a risk and tells Cassie what's been on her mind ever since she went to apologise to Cassie that afternoon.

"You know I just thought that we were… but it's just me being ridiculous, as if I could ever be good enough for _Cassandra July_."

She's dangling on the precipice, and she can't_ breathe_ for a moment, but then Cassie grabs her and kisses her like it's all she's really wanted to do all along, and so Rachel lets go and falls.

* * *

The door of Cassie's loft swings open to reveal Cassie in the middle of putting a long, elegant string of diamonds in her ear. Her whole face is flooded with surprise; confusion and suspicion flashing through her eyes.

"Schwimmer, what the hell are you doing here?!" she demands, although not angrily.

"Please don't be mad at me, I know it's New Years' Eve, but I just needed to explain," gabbles Rachel, and Cassie looks amused, folding her arms across her chest.

"Schwimmer, if you're under the mistaken impression that I'm-"

"I'm here because… I wanted to let you know I won't be taking your class next semester," Rachel interrupts quickly.

"And you had to come all the way back from Iowa on New Year's Eve to tell me that?" asks Cassie dryly, smirking. Rachel pauses, biting her lip.

"Yes?" she says shyly.

Cassie raises an eyebrow, but backs away from the door. "I have a party to go to in half an hour, but you can stay for a cocktail," she tells her as she sashays across the apartment, turning round to give Rachel a cheeky grin.

Rachel steps cautiously through the doorway (and really, was she so silly to expect Cassie to have boobie traps just _waiting_ for her?) and into the loft, and gasps. She hadn't had much time to look at it before, obviously, but now through the dim light she can make out wide, glimmering arches stretching across the towering ceiling, red brick walls lined with a myriad of photos and long, dark couches with what looked like velvet throws draped over them.

"My loft in _Soho_," Cassie drawls, still smirking, and Rachel doesn't miss the reference back to her first lesson. She lights a couple of candles on her kitchen counter top, and pours out two generous cocktails from a pitcher (Rachel wonders if she was previously planning on drinking the whole thing to herself…). She's being so calm and polite as if nothing ever happened; it's disconcerting, and Rachel feels the need to set the record straight.

"Cassie I really am sorry," she begins, but then Cassie looks up at her and for a moment she sees vulnerability across her features, before they form a calm mask.

"For what?" she asks in a terrifying icy sweetness, handing Rachel her drink. Rachel bites her lip, and looks down at it.

"Nothing, I just…" It feels eerily like their confrontation after the Winter Showcase, except Rachel's already given up all her cards. Cassie saunters away across the loft to put on some soft jazz, and Rachel timidly follows her over to the sofas.

"So… how was your Christmas?" she asks, and Cassie smiles at her in an amused way that makes her feel like this whole evening is a test.

"Wonderful," she says dryly. "How was Hanukah?"

(Her heart swells a little when Cassie remembers she's Jewish.)

"It was lovely," Rachel tells her with a broad grin. "My dads went on a round the world cruise this semester whilst I was away, and they got me a little present from each country for every night."

"So, what do you have English teabags sitting next to Persian carpets in your house back home or something?" Cassie asks as she comes to sit down next to her, and Rachel can tell she doesn't really care, which is why it strikes her as so _nice_, and so she launches into a hilarious tale of _how_ exactly her dads ended up with a box of $500 Russian cigars, and even Cassie laughs.

* * *

Rachel has definitely been here for more than half an hour, but Cassie makes no attempts to leave. She merely refills Rachel's glass, then leans back in her sofa and asks her opinion on the new _Sound of Music_ revival just opening.

They're halfway through their third pitcher when Cassie's phone rings. Rachel's head is spinning and she happily leans back against the sofa as Cassie excuses herself and goes to answer the call. She stares up at the shadows dancing across the ceiling and in the distance she can hear Cassie's voice, seemingly apologetic. It sounds strange. Rachel vaguely remembers that Cassie was supposed to be going out tonight – shouldn't she have left by now? Tonight was something important. New Year's? New Year's! She turns her head towards the mantelpiece and squints at the marble clock on top of it; 11.50. Shit.

"Somewhere you're supposed to be?"

Rachel whips her head round (_ow_) to see Cassie draped against the doorframe, smirking at her as usual.

"I was going to say the same for you," Rachel replies, her words somehow coming out slurred. Is she _drunk_? Cassie looks amused, and saunters over to slide down on the sofa next to her. Their knees brush ever-so-slightly, sending goose bumps down Rachel's legs.

"Tell me Schwimmer," Cassie drawls, leaning her elbow on the back of the sofa as she plays with her hair. Rachel watches her fingers weave in and out of blonde curls and a memory of those fingers curled deep inside _her_ flashes across her mind. "Why _exactly_ are you here?"

Rachel drags her eyes away from Cassie's fingers to look up at her, and the danger dancing beneath her curious expression ignites something inside of Rachel. And really, fuck this. Fuck Finn and Brody and playing it safe, fuck everyone who said she wasn't sexy or that she wouldn't succeed or that she'd never be loved… fuck everything.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Rachel says quietly, and something flashes through Cassie's eyes; excitement, affection? "I just wanted…"

"What?" asks Cassie huskily, as she moves her fingers to run along Rachel's thigh. Rachel can feel her heart hammering in her chest as she struggles to keep her gaze level with Cassie's. "Tell me Schwimmer. What. Do. You. Want?"

"You," sighs Rachel, and she barely has time to register a low growl in Cassie's chest as a warm mouth descends on hers and strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling their bodies flush together. Rachel tastes the dark, sweet alcohol that's buzzing round her head as she runs a tongue along Cassie's lips, teasing. But Cassie slides a long hand up Rachel's side to brush over the underside of her breast and she moans, her mouth opening as Cassie darts her tongue inside, ravishing her. Cassie leans further forward and Rachel feels herself beginning to lose control of the kiss, but she doesn't care. She doesn't care at all.

Rachel's hands slide down Cassie to wrap around her bum, squeezing gently. Cassie moans against her lips, and something flitters in Rachel's ribcage. What was it about this woman that did this to her? No one, _no one_ could emit feelings in her like this. An image of Quinn's long, tan legs flashes across her mind, but then Cassie moves her knee in between Rachel's, pressing up against her damp crotch and Rachel groans, sinking down further as pleasure soaks through her body. She squeezes Cassie's bum harder and arches up as Cassie's knee rubs up against her again and she rolls Rachel's breast in her hand.

"God Cassie," she gasps, as Cassie kisses away from her mouth and down her neck, sucking, licking, nipping. She sucks hard at her pulse point and Rachel hisses in pleasure, feeling herself being marked. Her heart swells.

It's like Cassie's launching an attack on every single one of her senses at once; and if this was her reward for submission, she'd take that any day. The heady mixture of Cassie's perfume, sweat and _sex_ washes over her; she can taste the salt expiring from her body on Cassie's tongue; she can hear her warm breath panting in her ear; feel Cassie's dampness soaking into her as she rocks against her thigh; and when she opens her eyes she can watch herself being eaten _alive_.

"Oh God Schwimmer," Cassie groans as she sinks particularly hard against Rachel's leg. She presses her body up against Rachel's and Rachel feels Cassie's breasts slide over her chest, leaving a tingly trail in their wake.

Cassie's hand presses up her thigh, dragging her skirt up to her waist, then slides two fingers firmly inside of her. Rachel groans, gasping as her head falls back against the sofa. Cassie curls her fingers up then drags them _torturously_ out and Rachel sobs as her body writhes desperately. Cassie laughs breathlessly, before thrusting her hand back in and leaning forward to capture Rachel's mouth with her own.

Rachel slams her hips down, urging Cassie on as she moans and whimpers against her lips. But Cassie barely needs it; she fucks her relentlessly, dominating Rachel as her hand slams into her again and again, wet noises echoing around the loft in between their pants. Rachel should hate it, she should, being so completely under the control of someone else; but she finds that it turns her on more than anything, Cassie's desperate desire to have Rachel trembling at her fingers.

Her head falls back as Cassie drives her higher and higher, and she glances up to see Cassie's eyes are wild; they're dark and shining, hair slick with sweat falling in them and she's honestly never seen someone so turned on in her life.

"Come on, Schwimmer," she murmurs, with a determined expression as she curls her fingers one last time, pressing her thumb against Rachel's clit and stars appear in her eyes as she screams, arching into Cassie. Her orgasm washes over as she clamps down on Cassie's fingers, riding it out as her body's rocked with pleasure, until her cries turn to whimpers and she slumps down, Cassie falling against her.

They lay there, panting, and as strength slowly returns to Rachel's arms she absent-mindedly moves a hand up to play with Cassie's hair. Is she imagining it or does Cassie lean ever so slightly into her?

Cassie's clock suddenly chimes; New Year. Rachel laughs. Cassie pulls back to look at her, grinning.

"Happy New Year, Schwim," she says softly. She pauses, and Rachel looks at her hesitantly for a moment which – how is a silly tradition a big deal after she's just been fucked out of her mind? Then Cassie lets out a slow chuckle, and leans forward to kiss her wetly. Rachel smiles against her lips and the knot inside of her, that she _knows_ appeared the first day of classes with Cassie, loosens slightly.

Cassie pulls back with a smirk.

"So. Do you think you can walk to my bed?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you to everyone who's kept supporting me with this story, it honestly means so much, so keep the comments coming :)_

* * *

So.

If she's completely honest with herself, of all the scenarios she'd imagined she'd never once pictured Rachel leaving. If anything it was _her_ she'd thought would do the walking… but then nothing about last night was what Cassie expected it to be.

She gave up over-analysing ten years ago, though; and besides, she's got what she wanted. She's won Schwimmer over and had some _mind blowing_ sex in the process (another thing she didn't anticipate; Schwimmer actually knowing how to get her off), and with absolutely _no_ consequences to it. So she makes herself a strong coffee and goes for a run with absolutely nothing she wants to think about.

* * *

Lucian comes over two days later bearing Christmas gifts.

"Oh my _god_," Cassie laughs, as she pulls out a volume of old off-cuts from stage photos, all with the performers caught in awkward and often compromising poses that evidently didn't make the final cut. "Lucian this is amazing," she tells him, thumbing through the photos. And somehow, seeing so many Broadway fuck-ups in one place, something untwists a little bit inside of her, just for a moment.

"Ok," she says excitedly, turning to him with a mischievous grin on her face. "Close your eyes." Lucian eyes her warily, but does so anyway. Cassie reaches for something under the coffee table, and hands it to him.

"Ahh!" Lucian screams when he opens his eyes, laughing hysterically. Cassie bursts into giggles, clasping her hands at her mouth as Lucian pulls on a knitted sweater with _I 3 Lapdances_ woven in.

"Please, please wear that on the Subway home," she asks him earnestly.

Lucian snorts. "Uh ,no, I don't think so. But I _will_ wear it to The Alley on Christmas Eve…" he says temptingly.

"I said _maybe_," Cassie reminds him, pouring them both some more egg nog. "All those Broadway queens, though, especially _yours_."

"Cassie, our entire circle of friends is Broadway queens," Lucian says deadpan.

"_Ex _-Broadway," Cassie reminds him, sipping her eggnog, and he rolls his eyes. "What about New Years'?" she asks him.

"Party. My loft. Bring a date," he teases, nudging her.

"Lucian I may not bring one, but I assure you I will _leave_ with one."

"Yeah, leave, as in, not to my bathroom."

"OK, onetime that happened…"

* * *

She goes to the party, because Rachel keeps threatening to inch into her thoughts and she badly needs some alcohol to take the edge off, but drinking alone at Christmas is just _sad_.

When she walks in with Lucian and his boyfriend the whole room stops talking and it's basically just as horrific as she'd imagined. But then the boyfriend steps forward and in that effortless theatre way greets the entire room in one swoop whilst making it seem like he's talking to everyone individually. They're instantly welcomed in and, yeah, sometimes he's kind of ok, Cassie guesses.

Lucian introduces her to some people who don't actually make her want to claw her own eyes out, and they turn out to be a _big_ fan of drinking games, so the night goes pretty well after that. Seven tequila shots later and she stumbles outside for a moment to smoke, and briefly wonders what Rachel's doing right now.

She's really, really glad she doesn't have her number, because she'd probably do something pathetic like _call_ if she did.

She _does_ start to wonder if maybe Rachel didn't want it as much as she thought she did. She has a brief panic attack a few nights after Christmas Day when she wonders if Rachel's actually going to report her, but then she remembers her pretty much begging her outside NYADA, and figures she'll be ok.

It's not like she hasn't fucked her students before, and this is no different. It's just _sex_, and Rachel's clearly too much of a drama queen to deal with it. It doesn't mean _anything_.

She's doing pretty well at ignoring the pesky emotions bothering her every time she goes to sleep, until Rachel turns up at her loft on New Years' Eve.

* * *

So Rachel's drunk. Not so much that she's actually incapable of standing or making decisions, but she's still underage and she's currently running her fingers through her hair and licking her lips and flirting _shamelessly_, and Cassie wonders how she's reached a level where she's plying her students with alcohol to get them to sleep with her.

(Except that's clearly what Rachel turned up here for, and so really Cassie's just plying herself…)

They're kind of dancing on the precipice, and Cassie briefly considers taking Rachel to the party with her. But then Lucian calls and he's off his ass drunk, enough so that he won't be mad at Cassie for blowing their plans off at the last minute.

On New Years' Eve.

To stay home with Schwimmer.

Cassie glances at her bed, and memories of Rachel writhing around on it underneath her come flooding back, and she's basically sold after that.

* * *

She definitely did not expect to begin 2013 with Rachel draped across her body, a satisfied smile playing across her lips as she snores ever so slightly. Cassie runs her hands through her hair lightly, chuckling to herself, because it _is _kind of funny. She looks sort of cute when she sleeps; probably because she's stopped talking for more than thirty seconds.

(She can't help the slight bittersweet pang that she hasn't woken up alone again.)

"Schwim," she says softly, running a hand along her shoulder, because Rachel's skin is kind of glowing in the morning light. Rachel stays fast asleep. "Schwi-im," she sing-songs, and Rachel murmurs, eventually peeling an eye open. For a split-second Cassie's heart freezes in panic at how fucking awkward this might be.

"Oh god," Rachel groans, bringing a hand up to her temples. "I feel horrific."

"You are such a lightweight," Cassie tells her, rolling her eyes, but she's smiling. It's pretty funny seeing someone else wake up like a bear with a sore head when it's usually _her_ heaving over the toilet seat in the morning. "Are you gonna hurl?" Cassie asks, and Rachel shakes her head, and then winces.

"Good," Cassie says, and watches happily as the fingers she trails up Rachel's spine draw out goosebumps. "Because I think I know how to make you feel better…"

Rachel perks up at that, and slides seductively up Cassie's body with a mischievous look in her eye. Schwimmer's over-enthusiasm is as grating as nails on a fucking chalkboard in every other aspect of life, but it never fails to render Cassie momentarily speechless at how goddamn _sexy_ it is in her bed.

"Hmm, that would be a first," Rachel tells her, and slips her tongue into Cassie's mouth before she can verbalise her outrage. It really shouldn't be so good, both of them sweaty and sticky and _stinking_ of alcohol and also completely sober; but Cassie feels that familiar warmth kindle in the pit of her stomach as Rachel's skin slides against hers and she starts to lose it all over again.

She's so glad she's still here. When she rolls Rachel over and looks down to see her smiling up at her, she's so happy she just stops, just for a moment, to grin right back.

Cassie takes her time this time round, and _god_ it's so worth it, watching Rachel writhe and scream in frustration as she pushes her to the brink and then pulls her back again.

Really, it's a great fucking start to 2013.

* * *

She's basically OK as long as she doesn't think about the reasoning behind Rachel turning up at her loft _on New Year's Eve_, just to see her.

They spend the morning in bed, intermittently dosing off, until Cassie suddenly realises she's absolutely _famished_ and gets up to go in search of some food.

(She doesn't usually eat anything more than fruit, especially at this time of day, but maybe she's just worked up an appetite over the last twelve hours, or maybe she's feeling content enough to eat a proper breakfast. Who knows.)

"So, I guess I'll just…" Rachel says awkwardly as Cassie pulls on her robe, and she looks round to see Rachel wrapping a sheet round her and rolling out of bed. Cassie freezes, because this is _exactly_ why she never has people stay over.

Then she kind of shrugs, and says, "Well I'm gonna make some breakfast," and hurries out the room before she has to look at Rachel's face.

She's not _opposed_ to Rachel staying – a whole day of sex is pretty fucking appealing, frankly – but she doesn't want to give her the idea this is some kind of thing. Because it's not; it's just an extension of the power struggle they've been dancing together all semester.

She butters some toast kind of agitatedly, biting her lip, and then heaves an aggravated sigh.

"Schwim?" she calls.

"Yeah?"

She walks back over to her room and pokes her head around the door, where Rachel is still semi-naked, and, yeah, that kind of firms her resolve.

"I don't even know if there any taxis running today so – do you want to come… join me in the shower?"

Rachel blushes and smiles at the same time, and it's both incredibly cute and incredibly sexy, so Cassie crooks a finger at her and leads her across the hallway into her bathroom, slipping off her robe as she goes.

* * *

She lets Rachel stay, after that, because it's fucking New Years' Day, and she's not a bitch _without reason_. Rachel doesn't have any clothes except the ones she came in, though - which stink of rum and sex – and the look of happiness on her face when Cassie offers her some of her lounge wear makes Cassie's stomach drop.

"Look, Schwimmer," she says awkwardly, trying not to stare at Rachel's appealingly half-naked body as she gets dressed (and _seriously_, she's basically spend the past twelve hours learning how to play Rachel's body like a harp and she should be fucking over it by now, so _how_ is she still getting tingles in the pit of her stomach?).

"This just for the holidays, OK? Then you can go back to running after whatever hunk of meat you're into right now or whatever," she says dismissively, shoving her hands in her the pockets of her yoga pants. Rachel stills so suddenly it makes Cassie's breath catch, and the look of hurt on her face wrenches Cassie's heart so hard for a moment she wishes she could take the words back. Especially the second part.

(And she knows she's kidding herself if she thinks Rachel doesn't see straight through her attempted apathy to the jealousy underneath.)

But then Rachel straightens her spine and says in what is clearly an attempt at light-heartedness, "Don't worry, I'm not going to steal one of your keys to cut when you're not looking."

Cassie's heart still hurts, but she can't help but kind of smile at that.

"I'm gonna make some lunch," she tells her, a lot more softly now, and then leaves Rachel to finish getting dressed.

They eat lunch on opposite ends of the couch, watching a movie far too optimistic for Cassie's liking, and end up sort of nestling up there for the rest of the afternoon. Rachel gives a running commentary for most of what they watch – because this feel good shit is obviously right up her street – and it's slightly more endearing than it is annoying. And Rachel has a way of almost instantly evaporating any awkwardness in the air that Cassie kind of admires.

(She wonders when she actually started considering Rachel as _less_ uptight than her, and sort of chuckles to herself.)

By late afternoon she's starting to feel a little stiff, and so quietly slides off the couch and pulls out her yoga mat from underneath, then begins to stretch. She's mostly just stretching flatly across and between her legs at the start, but then she flips onto her back and pulls her leg up to near her head and Rachel glances over. She catches Cassie's eye and looks away again quickly, licking her lips as she focuses resolutely on the television.

Cassie smirks.

She sighs loudly as she slides onto her side and pulls her leg back up towards her, and when Rachel glances over a second later her gaze lingers on Cassie's crotch.

"Schwim?" Cassie says slowly.

"Mm?" squeaks Rachel, and a slight blush spreads across her cheeks.

Cassie beckons her lightly over with her head, and Rachel slips off the couch and over to her in about two seconds flat. She slides her hand up to press on Cassie's leg, and it's basically a mirror situation of Rachel's apology to her all those weeks ago. Except now Rachel's touch is firm and confident in a way that suggests she knows what she wants, and the darkness in her eyes as she holds Cassie's gaze confirms that.

Rachel's the one pushing, now, figuring out what makes Cassie tick. She's still hesitant, even as she slides her other hand up Cassie's inner thigh, watching with a heaving chest and wide eyes to see how Cassie reacts. She gives the impression of a girl who's finally being allowed to touch when she could previously only look, and who's watching and waiting just as much as Cassie to see where this new twist is going to take them.

"Schwimmer," she sighs, as Rachel finally moves her hand to cup Cassie's crotch. She rubs slowly across the material, and Cassie's eyes flutter closed as she purrs contentedly.

Rachel pulls back her extended leg and nudges her gently to the floor, and Cassie smiles.

"I'm _so_ glad you've finally learnt to take what you want, Schwimmer," Cassie says in a throaty voice, her head tipping back as Rachel continues to rub at her dampening crotch.

"What makes you think I've wanted this all along?" Rachel asks innocently. Cassie tips her head up briefly to raise an incredulous eyebrow, but then Rachel presses particularly hard with her fingers and her head tips back to the floor with a loud groan.

"You think I didn't notice how flushed you got every time I touched you?" Cassie gasps, as Rachel's fingers speed up, and her other hand moves to slide Cassie's top up over her stomach. "Or you licking your lips at me in the mirror whilst you checked out my ass?"

"You were just as bad," mumbles Rachel, as she dips her head down to lick Cassie's belly button. Cassie hisses and arches into her, wrapping a leg around Rachel's body.

"I was- oh _god_," Cassie cries, as Rachel slips a hand underneath her yoga pants and pushes two fingers inside her without any preamble.

"You were what, Cassandra?" as she mimics Cassie's favourite kind of torture by dragging her curled fingers out _achingly_ slowly.

"I was _not_ as bad as you," is the only response Cassie can come up with, as Rachel begins to fuck her with a smug smile on her face.

"You were thoroughly inappropriate," she says in an incredibly prim voice, just as she rams her fingers back into her and it's so hot Cassie _screams_.

"Oh my god, Rachel, _more_!"

But Rachel doesn't oblige; instead she tugs Cassie's pants and underwear roughly down her legs and Cassie's just about to protest when Rachel dips her head down and licks long and deep. A cry rips from Cassie's throat as she opens her legs wider and simultaneously wraps them tighter around Rachel.

She's such a fucking tease, licking slowly and hungrily over Cassie's labia but never quite where wants. Cassie's legs are trembling and the ache between her thighs is building so much she wants to scream.

"Schwimmer for christ's sake it's called a clit and it's right there!"

Rachel stops completely to look up and glare at her, and she growls.

"Schwimmer!"

Then Rachel moves her head back down and runs her tongue over Cassie's clit before sucking _hard_, and Cassie nearly loses it, shaking and writhing shamelessly against Rachel's face. Rachel keeps licking and sucking, hands firmly on her hips to hold her down as she drives Cassie to the brink with more hungry determination than Cassie's ever experienced in her life.

"Rachel," she gasps, crying, and then loses it completely, her hips bucking against Rachel's face as her body spasms in pleasure.

When she comes down, Rachel is sitting watching her, a smug smile settling over her glistening mouth.

* * *

Rachel stays the night again, and Cassie allows herself one last weakness and lets Rachel nestle into her side, wrapping her arms tightly around her. She feels her thoughts calm as Rachel snores softly, and having her there is so inexplicably soothing.

When she wakes up, the bed next to her is empty. Her stomach drops, but then she hears the trinkling of the shower next door, and the tell-tale sounds of Rachel's vocal warm-ups, clearly at a failed attempt at a muted level. Cassie resists the urge to join her, because then they'll just end up _right_ back at the beginning, and she needs to stop whatever this thing is before it gets out of hand.

Instead, she pulls on some lounge wear and goes to make herself a strong coffee. She doesn't feel like eating anything at all, so she sits at the kitchen counter and sips at her drink. The boiling liquid burns down her throat, and it's a nice reminder of reality.

Rachel appears about half an hour later, anxiously running her hands through her hair as she makes her way over to Cassie.

"I've left your stuff on your bed. Thanks," she says, with a small smile.

"No problem, Schwim."

"Well… have a good holiday," Rachel tells her. She hesitates, biting her lip, then all of a sudden moves round to the side of the counter and brushes her lips against Cassie's cheek. Then before Cassie can even turn to look at her she walks away and out of the loft, leaving a faint smell of shampoo in her wake.

Cassie bites her own lip, hard, and doesn't stop until she realises she's drawn blood.

* * *

Rachel doesn't disappear from her thoughts for the rest of the week. She doesn't even come close. She pesters her night and day, barging her way into her memories and her dreams, and it really shouldn't be such a surprise considering what she's like in real life.

Cassie spends most of her time in her studio trying to keep distracted, and the rest of it trying to ease some of the frustration she feels every time she so much as remembers Rachel's face.

(Usually, mid-orgasm, which is basically one of the best things she's ever seen.)

She knows having sex with Rachel _again_ would be a really bad fucking idea, even if she's not technically her student anymore – and the idea of not seeing Rachel in skimpy dance outfits every other day seems like both heaven and hell at this point – because she's still a NYADA student, and Cassie's already ruined one career.

It doesn't stop her considering it in the brief moments before she can push Rachel out of her mind; fantasising about all things she could do to her in her studio, mentally assessing how much they could feasibly get away with without being caught.

She is, when it comes down to it, both an incredibly private and an incredibly manipulative person, and she knows there's nothing she can't hide if she wants to.

(She's not sure she can say the same for Rachel, though.)

* * *

She wakes up on the first day of classes with such an eager sense of anticipation she has to actually stop and talk some sense into herself. Rachel's not even in her class.

And even if she was…

She can barely apply her eyeliner straight her hand's shaking so much, and it's fucking ridiculous. She's 90% sure she's suffering from some kind of withdrawal symptoms, as she's drunk basically _nothing_ since New Years'.

(She tells herself it's to stop herself from doing anything stupid with Rachel, but the reality is she just doesn't want to forget what happened.)

She doesn't even bother with breakfast, and arrives at her studio a full half hour early, sipping nervously on a coffee whilst she absent-mindedly runs through some choreography.

Her class start to arrive, and they're pretty much the same few who managed to survive Dance 101 to the end of the semester, plus a couple of new students who clearly have no idea what they've let themselves in for. Rachel's room mate isn't one of them, she notes happily, because she'd rather not have a big fucking reminder of Schwimmer in her class every day when Schwimmer herself isn't actually there.

She's just about to start warm-up when the door opens and suddenly _Rachel_ swans into the studio.

Cassie's heart legitimately skips a beat and then starts thudding away twice as fast as normal, and she looks away before her face does anything without her permission.

"Sorry I'm late!" says Rachel breathlessly as she hurries across to the window.

_Is she actually fucking kidding_.

"I didn't think you'd be gracing us with your presence this semester, Schwimmer," Cassie says in what she hopes is a casual voice.

"Well, you've taught me so much, Miss July," Rachel tells her as she turns round, and smiles sweetly.

_That little shit._

Cassie's eyes narrow as she turns away, and she ignores the bolt of lightning straight to her groin at those words.

"Alright, let's go! Start warming up people. Let's start with some pliés, as I'm sure you've all forgotten everything you learnt last semester over Winter Break. Don't let me see your turn out slip in fifth!"

She wanders around the class for a few minutes, lazily waving her cane and barking criticisms at her students as she tries to think how to best deal with Rachel. She's trying to stifle her first reaction, which is basically throw her up against a wall and slide her hands underneath her leotard, but it's _really_ fucking hard, because Rachel is wearing shorts so tiny she can actually see the bottom of her ass cheeks.

She sidles up behind her silently, and Rachel jumps as she feels Cassie's chest brush against her hair as she leans in to whisper, "Do you think this is funny, Schwimmer?"

"I simply felt I still had more to learn from this class," Rachel whispers back primly, and that voice sends her straight back to lying on the floor with Rachel between her legs. She closes her eyes for a moment.

"Don't think I'm going to go easy on you, Schwimmer," she growls, and Rachel visibly shivers.

She does exactly that, because no _way_ is she going to stop a couple of (mind blowing) orgasms stop her from doing her job. And yeah, she tones down the insults to an only reasonably brutal level, but it seems only fair after she's become so well acquainted with how well Rachel can actually move her body, when she tries.

It's still goddamn torture, though, and she spends most of the lesson coming to the decision that Rachel is just going to have to learn to keep her fucking mouth shut or something, because there is not a chance in hell she can make it through the next semester without ripping those ridiculously revealing leotards off her.

(And it's better for both of them, frankly, that that happens in private.)

She slams the door shut on the last student and clumsily locks it, before she turns round to where Rachel is lingering by her desk, smiling seductively in a way that frankly should be illegal.

"You are such a pain in my ass," Cassie growls, marching towards her. Rachel lets out a teasing laugh before Cassie throws her onto the desk, wrapping an arm around her neck to crash their mouths together.

Her hands slide over Rachel's body, squeezing at her breasts as she slips her knee in between Rachel's thighs.

"Why did you come back?" she asks through breathless kisses up Rachel's neck.

"I wasn't ever planning on going," Rachel gasps, and Cassie pulls back to look at her in shock for a moment, and sees the mischievous glint in Rachel's eyes. Her mouth tightens into a thin line, and she pushes Rachel's shorts aside and slides her fingers inside Rachel.

"_Oh!_" she cries, her head tipping back in pleasure as she thrusts her hips against Cassie's hand.

Cassie fucks her relentlessly, wrapping one hand through her hair to kiss her roughly as the other works furiously between her legs. Rachel moans and whimpers into her mouth, and she's so uninhibited with Cassie now that she just gets more and more sexy every time this happens.

Her cries start to echo round the dance studio as she gets closer and closer, and Cassie spares a brain cell to think how obvious this must sound to anyone who happens to be outside. She shoves her spare hand against Rachel's mouth, and it's just in time because then Rachel falls apart, her screams muffled by Cassie's palm as she shakes against her.

Then Cassie hears it; the click of heels and the slow turn of the door handle. She reacts instinctively, pulling Rachel violently off the table and into hold, and whirling her round the floor.

When the door opens and a couple of students walk in, Cassie looks over and stops them. She keeps one arm wrapped tightly around Rachel, who is nearly collapsing breathlessly onto the floor, but to the students standing nervously in the doorway it's merely because of a particularly energetic dance session.

"I'm sorry, did you want something?" Cassie asks archly. "I'm just showing one of my students the finer points of the tango."

"No, sorry Miss July, we thought this room was free," says one of the students quickly, before they turn and hurry away, closing the door behind them.

Rachel sags against Cassie, who lets out a relieved sigh.

"_Shit_," she says, still gasping for breath. She glances down at Rachel, who looks so thoroughly fucked she wonders whether she's about to be reported.

"Shit," she says again.

* * *

Cassie doesn't have class with Rachel on Tuesday this semester, so she doesn't see her for another couple of days. She deliberates for a full two hours on actually ending whatever this is with Rachel, but when she catches a whiff of her perfume on her clothes and her crotch actually _aches_, she accepts that this is going to happen whether she likes it or not.

Rachel hangs back after class again the next day, looking a little unsure.

"Look, Schwimmer," Cassie begins awkwardly. "We nearly got caught the other night, so, you know, if we're gonna do this on the regular I think we should relocate to my loft."

Rachel's eyes light up in excitement. "Oh my god, are we having an _illicit_ _affair_?!" she says in an overly-dramatic whisper, and actually fucking claps her hands. Cassie closes her eyes for a moment.

"OK, first of all, do not clap like a seal if you ever want to see me naked again," Cassie says dryly, and Rachel sobers, nodding.

(It briefly occurs to her that if she now has sex as a weapon, maybe Rachel will be less of a fucking pain in her ass in class.)

"And you should probably give me your number or something," Cassie continues. "I can't just have you turning up at my loft whenever."

"I do actually have a life, you know," Rachel informs her, but grudgingly accepts Cassie's phone anyway.

"Trolling Broadway chat rooms for mentions of Barbra's latest whereabouts is not a life, Schwimmer," says Cassie dryly as Rachel types in her number. Rachel glares at her, handing back the phone as Cassie smirks.

"I'll call you," she says with a wink, before sauntering past Rachel and whacking her on the ass as she leaves.


	7. Chapter 7

**I'VE FINISHED MY DEGREE! So I'm going to be trying to update at least once a week from now on; feel free to come into my tumblr (gohavefunschwim) ask and bug me if I start slipping.**

**Thank you to the usual angels - Harriet, Marina, Gem and Amelia - for their never-ending encouragement, as well as everyone who commented on the last chapter. It really means a lot, so please keep it coming :)**

* * *

So.

She waits a solid three days before she calls on Rachel, because she is _not_ desperate, and she would basically rather chew glass than give Rachel any inkling of how much she wants her.

Rachel, unfortunately, seems to have some sort of idea, from the way she's prancing around Cassie's dance hall in scandalously revealing outfits and shooting suggestive smirks at her every three seconds. It's possibly the least subtle display of seduction Cassie's ever seen from Rachel – and that includes her Oops performance – and if it wasn't for the fact that her entire class is more convinced than ever of their sworn enmity after All That Jazz, she'd start to worry.

As it is, she's just ridiculously frustrated, and so she catches Rachel as she's leaving their Friday morning class.

"Schwimmer, a word," she says, without even bothering to look up from her choreography notes by the piano. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the barely concealed smirk on Rachel's face as she walks over to her.

"Ms July?" Rachel asks with such a feigned innocence that it takes all of Cassie's self-restraint not to throw her against the piano then and there.

"What are you doing Saturday night?" she asks in a low voice, moving closer towards her.

"Um," Rachel gulps. "Maybe a party?"

"There's a wonderful little salsa club just round the corner from my apartment," Cassie says into Rachel's ear, "And I seem to remember you're still having some trouble learning to… loosen up a little." Cassie's hands drift across Rachel's waist, and Rachel instinctively leans into her.

"Are you offering to teach me?" Rachel asks in a voice about an octave deeper than usual.

"Be at mine for around 9," Cassie tells her, ghosting her lips across Rachel's ear lobe before she pulls away, leaving Rachel visibly breathless as she saunters out of the classroom.

* * *

She doesn't really plan on telling Lucian, but it comes out when she has to give him a reason she can't go out that Saturday.

(Because obviously a vague _I've got other plans_ isn't going to work for someone who hasn't had more than one genuine friend in the last eight years.)

"You're doing _what_?" Lucian asks in disbelief down the phone.

"I'm taking Rachel to Caliente's on 3rd," Cassie sighs, pouring herself a large glass of wine, because this is a conversation she really does not want to deal with.

"You're taking your student dancing," Lucian says back to her flatly.

"Christ Lucian, a dance teacher dancing with her student, who would ever have thought?" Cassie snaps, and drinks deeply as she rolls her eyes.

"Cassie, there's a difference between a casual affair with your student, and taking the underage girl you've been obsessed with for months out on a date."

Something inside Cassie flares. And seriously, if she wanted a lecture on her life choices, she'd go visit her grandmother in Kansas.

She can't think of a time when Broadway teachers _haven't_ slept with their young ingénues, and it's really not a fucking big deal. She knows what she's doing – and who – and she's completely in control of this situation.

"Yeah, you know what the only thing I'm _obsessed_ with is how good Rachel looks naked in my bed, okay? So fuck you."

She hangs up, narrowly resisting the urge to throw her phone across the flat. Instead she sighs angrily, biting her lip as the guilt already starts to hit her, and takes another deep gulp of wine to fend it off.

* * *

Her conversation with Lucian nags away at her all weekend, but then Rachel turns up at her flat – bang on 9pm, of course – in a tiny black dress that swirls as she turns, and Cassie forgets any objections she has to fucking Rachel senseless.

"So is this what you normally do when you're not teaching?" Rachel asks her, as they wander through Soho.

"Are you surprised I have a life outside of NYADA, Schwimmer?" Cassie says drolly.

"I- well, maybe sometimes you get bored of dancing," Rachel says hesitantly.

"Oh, I never get bored of dancing," Cassie tells her, shooting Rachel a smirk. Rachel blushes and looks away, biting her lip as she smiles.

"Did you train as a dancer?" she asks, and for a moment Cassie feels like she's had the wind knocked out of her. But Rachel says it so casually, as if she's not referencing to 20 years of blood, sweat and tears for a career that went up in smoke, that Cassie finds herself actually telling the truth.

"Yes… ballet, tap and jazz since I was four, and ballroom since I was eight. I was going to join the ballet, actually," Cassie muses.

"What happened?"

"I discovered I loved to sing," Cassie says with a smile. And suddenly this conversation is getting way too nostalgic way too fast, and they haven't even had a drink yet.

"Now Schwim," she says, throwing an arm round Rachel's shoulders. "There's going to be a lot of beautiful women in this club, so you've got to promise me you won't run away from intimidation."

Rachel shoots her a glare.

"And they'll probably get quite friendly. So, you know," Cassie continues with a wink.

"Cassie, where are you taking me?" Rachel asks warningly, but she's about as threatening as a lost puppy. They round a corner, and the salsa beat floats down the street towards them.

"Dancing!" says Cassie with a grin. She presses a hand against her back and leads her into the club, smouldering at the bouncer before Rachel even has a chance to hesitate.

(She was about 98% sure there wouldn't be a problem, but she's still relieved at avoiding what would be possibly the most awkward moment of the last five years, at least.)

"Oh my _god_," Rachel laughs as they appear in the club, hands coming up to her mouth. Cassie smirks in satisfaction, because – yeah, it is pretty impressive. It's like a little slice of Rio crossed with hedonistic New York, all wooden floors and huge pots of (fake) flowers and chandeliers. The air is sweet with the smell of cocktails and the beat of the music thumps in Cassie's breastbone, and the rush of what she _knows_ is going to be a fucking fantastic night hits her.

"Come on!" Cassie shouts at her over the music, and leads her away by her hand to the bar. It's pretty packed, but she smiles her way sweetly through the crowd, and orders a couple of tequila shots. Rachel's pressed up against her, hands resting on her waist, and when she turns round she's still staring round in amazement.

She hands Rachel her shot, clinking the glasses with a wicked grin before she easily downs hers. Rachel follows hesitantly, making a face of absolute disgust, but she doesn't splutter, and Cassie gains about 3% more respect for her. Clearly college life in New York has loosened her up slightly in the last five months. Cassie grins, chucking the glasses back on the bar before she drags Rachel onto the dance floor.

Rachel's laughing as Cassie twirls her around then pulls them flush together, staring up at Cassie with wide eyes like she can't quite believe this is happening. Something satisfied settles in Cassie's chest, like she's finally achieved a long sought-after goal , and she snakes her hands over Rachel's hips to pull her even closer.

"Now the first thing you need to know, Schwimmer," Cassie says lowly in her ear. "Is that it's all about _sex_." She feels Rachel sigh deeply against her, and smirks. When she pulls back slightly to look into Rachel's eyes, they're huge and wide, light from the chandeliers dancing off them. She slips a leg shamelessly in between Rachel's, sliding her hands down to Rachel's ass, and watches as Rachel's eyes flutter closed for a moment, before opening again with such a dangerous look in them it sends a shiver through Cassie's body.

"What do you think Ms July," she asks her, swaying her hips with the music. "Do I have what it takes?"

"Well Schwimmer, I still think you need to learn to… loosen up a little."

She whirls Rachel out and back into hold, and Rachel laughs joyfully and tips her head back as they begin to dance faster. The floor's so busy they can't move more than a few metres around, but Cassie's nothing if not a magician with her body, and she slides teasingly up against Rachel before spinning her out, again and again.

She's only had that shot of tequila but Cassie can feel something buzzing through her veins, as Rachel shimmies towards her, crooking a finger. Cassie smoulders back, pulling Rachel into her until they're spinning round, feet moving furiously in an intricate cross-step. And maybe she _has_ learnt something in the past five months, because Rachel doesn't falter, not once, and holds Cassie's gaze firmly as they turn.

Cassie spins her out suddenly and dips her down, laughing as Rachel's hair falls back behind her in ripples. When she pulls her back up she catches a glance of Rachel's glowing face before she throws her arms around Cassie and kisses her hotly. Cassie smiles into her mouth, squeezing her ass as she nips affectionately at her bottom lip. She feels, rather than hears, Rachel's moan and god she just needs _more_.

But Rachel has other ideas, pulling back and miming at her she wants a drink. Rachel rifles in her purse as they reach the bar again, and Cassie catches a glimpse of a fake ID before she slams her hand on Rachel's, and rolls her eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me," she tells her, and Rachel looks affronted – even though she probably can't hear Cassie over the speakers a metre away from them, but Cassie knows her _stop that shit now, Schwimmer_ expression is pretty easy to read.

She lets Rachel order her drink before she orders her own Bellini, and another four tequila shots, and pays for them both. She bites her lip slightly as the bartender pours them out, because Rachel _is _underage, and she's her student, and if anyone saw them…

She glances round to make a sort of cursory check, but all she sees is Schwimmer being chatted up by an averagely handsome man, and responding annoyingly enthusiastically. Something grips Cassie's heart painfully, and her eyes narrow. She's about to whack the guy round the head and tell him exactly where to fucking go, but – _what_? Rachel's not even hers.

(And she doesn't need to be banned from another club.)

She slides an arm round Rachel's waist, who promptly turns round in surprise and grins up at her. Cassie's saccharinely sweet smile does nothing to hide the jealousy in her eyes, but she hands Rachel a tequila shot before she has a chance to say anything. Rachel gamely downs it before Cassie begins to pull her away; she sees Rachel glance over her shoulder as if to apologise to her would-be suitor, but Cassie already has her sandwiched against the bar, handing her another shot.

"What was that?" Rachel asks her, and Cassie knows she's just played way too many of her cards.

"What?" Cassie says innocently, and hands her another shot. Rachel narrows her eyes as she takes a sip of her drink, then downs the tequila, and shakes her head.

"Come on!" she says brightly. "Let's _dance_!"

Cassie grabs both their drinks and follows Rachel back out to the dance floor, where she's currently twirling solo. Then suddenly someone barges into her side, and she's nearly toppled over, her drinks sloshing _everywhere_.

"What the fuck?!" she yells, whipping round to see a very apologetic looking woman holding up her hands.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" she says earnestly.

And maybe Cassie's still rattled by that guy, because she snaps, "Yeah, you fucking should be."

"Here, let me buy you another," the woman offers, and Cassie softens slightly, and shrugs in concession. It doesn't hurt that the woman's gorgeous, all dark curls and huge brown eyes.

(She glances around for Rachel, but she's nowhere to be seen, so she sighs and decides she at least needs a drink before she salsas through the club looking for her.)

"A Bellini, and…?" The woman turns to Cassie questioningly.

"Oh don't bother, she's probably had enough for tonight," Cassie says dryly, waving a dismissive hand.

"Are you here with a friend?" the woman asks, handing Cassie her cocktail. She sort of freezes, because, _shit_, how would she describe Schwimmer?

"Or your date?" the woman probes with a smile, and Cassie nearly chokes.

"No, dear god, she's just… we dance together."

"Oh sweetie, so does everyone here," replies the woman with a smile, and Cassie inwardly curses Schwimmer for running off, because she's_ sure_ this shit would drive her wild with jealously right now.

"Hmm, well," Cassie hums, smirking back, then she leans forward and says, "I should probably go find her before she dances off with someone else. Thanks for the drink."

"Let me give you my number," the woman says, handing her a card from her purse. "If you ever fancy someone else to dance with."

Cassie licks her lips, and smirks again, before sauntering off towards the dance floor sipping her drink.

She finds Rachel within about five minutes, dancing in the middle of a group of the most outrageously camp men she's seen outside of NYADA in a while. She momentarily pauses, smiling as she watches Rachel clearly having the time of her life, and currently the star of the crowd as she shimmies and shakes her butt around, roaring with laughter.

"Cassie!" she screams, when she catches Cassie's eye, and elbows her way out of the group to run over and throw her arms round her.

"Having fun, Schwim?" Cassie says as she basically catches her.

"We're supposed to be dancing!" Rachel tells her enthusiastically, taking her hand. Cassie rests her finished drink on a table and allows herself to be dragged into the crowd, where Rachel wraps her arms around her neck and pulls her closer, smiling up at her seductively.

Drunk Schwimmer is clearly horny Schwimmer, and Cassie's not in the least bit surprised.

She leans forward and nips lightly at Rachel's ear, before saying huskily into it, "Come on, Rachel. Show me what you've learnt. _Seduce me_."

And it's basically the best and worst thing she could possibly have said, because christ Rachel _does_.

(She should've known not to give Rachel a chance to act with how she eats that shit up.)

She moves away from Cassie, undulating her hips and running her hands through her hair so it falls through the air in waves. The smile she shoots at Cassie sends heat straight to her crotch, but when she tries to take Rachel back in her arms she turns round and grinds shamelessly against Cassie. Her arms come up to wrap around Cassie's neck, and Cassie decides to play dirty, letting her hands stray tantalisingly from Rachel's hips towards her crotch.

Rachel whips round, gasping and smiling at the same time, and Cassie smirks. Rachel snakes her hands up Cassie's abdomen until she's palming at her breasts, and Cassie lets her head fall back as she pulls Rachel's hips closer to hers. Then one of Rachel's strong hands reaches up to the nape of Cassie's neck and pulls her down until they're kissing hotly, gyrating against each other, and Cassie loses sense of everything except the feel of Rachel's mouth on hers and her knee moving up against her crotch and her small hands basically massaging her ass.

(It's not salsa, not even close, but she could give literally no fucks at this point.)

It feels like they've been dancing for hours, and part of Cassie wants to keep going til dawn; but she can feel Rachel getting wetter by the second against her knee and her own nipples are straining through her dress and her whole body is _humming_ in anticipation.

"Let's go," Cassie husks in her ear, and Rachel doesn't need telling twice. Cassie thanks god she only lives a few blocks away, because Rachel's basically lost all self-control and she really doesn't want to get arrested for having sex in a cab.

They don't even make it to Cassie's bedroom (they barely make it into her loft), and she doesn't know whether it's the alcohol or watching Rachel get hit on or grinding against her for an entire evening but it's never been this hot. _Rachel's_ never been this hot, nipping and clawing and whining, her head tipping back against the door as she wraps her legs around Cassie.

Several hours – and way too many orgasms to count – later, Rachel still nestles into Cassie's side as she snores gently in her sleep. A familiar sense of discomfort creeps into Cassie's chest, but she can't quite help herself from running her fingers lightly through Rachel's hair, and smiling slowly in satisfaction.

* * *

They sleep in until about midday – hung over Schwimmer is also dead-to-the-world Schwimmer, she discovers – but Rachel doesn't make any attempt to stay, this time, and Cassie doesn't stop her, because between her unexpected jealousy and Rachel clinging to her like a limpet all night long, Cassie's starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

Rachel hesitates slightly at the door before she leaves, as if waiting for Cassie to make the next move. She's not fucking kissing her goodbye or anything, if that's what she's expecting.

"I'll see you Monday, Schwim," Cassie tells her, and Rachel nods, says a slightly awkward 'bye', and turns to leave. Cassie feels a twinge of guilt, and impulsively slaps Rachel on the ass, who promptly squeals and turns round to try and glare, which is completely ruined by the grin on her face. Cassie licks her lips, smiling as she shuts the door.

She spends a couple of hours working out and choreographing, but honestly, she's _exhausted_.

(And it's awesome.)

She's curled up on her couch eating leftover takeout when she hears her a knock at her door, and her heart skips a beat for a moment as she wonders if Rachel's come back.

(Honestly, she's less worried about the NYADA faculty finding out than she is about Schwimmer taking to following her around like a lost puppy.)

She opens her door, though, to see Lucian leaning against the frame, looking tired and a little apologetic.

"What?" she asks, crossing her arms.

Lucian hands her a small cake box, and gives her a resigned smile.

"It's your life. I'm sorry. I'm here for when you fuck it up."

"Fuck you," Cassie says, but she's smiling too, and she playfully snatches the box from him.

"It's vegan," he tells her as she opens the box, sniffing at the caramel-coloured cake experimentally. "I know you won't eat anything full-fat."

Cassie glares at him, but it's softened by the small reminder of Rachel, and she moves away from the door to let him inside.

"Come on, I've got the West Wing lined up on Netflix."

Lucian says nothing more about Rachel until he leaves hours later, both of them a bottle of wine down.

"Please be careful, Cas," he says, unusually sincere.

"Look, I'm not gonna get caught in my studio with her, or break her little heart if that's what you're worried about. She knows it's just sex," Cassie assures him.

"Maybe she does. Maybe you've convinced her. I'm just worried about the day you stop convincing yourself."

Something clenches in Cassie's heart and her ears start buzzing, and she just doesn't know what to say. Lucian gives her a long, hard look, and then turns and leaves her to her own thoughts.

She doesn't move from that spot for a good ten minutes. Then suddenly she shakes herself, and turns up her music for an evening workout until it drowns out the words circling her mind.

* * *

The next few weeks putter along in a similar fashion.

Rachel seems to delight in making her as frustrated as possible during class, and there's literally _nothing_ Cassie can do to stop her; especially since unleashing her sexuality is making her a halfway decent dancer.

Cassie desperately wants to play her at her own game, but she knows the moment she starts to slip from her snarky iciness – especially when criticism of Rachel's around average dancing is 100% justifiable – her other students are going to, at the very least, lose some respect for her.

(She's never had a lesson in her life when she hasn't commanded the total respect of a classroom, through fear, talent, or both, and she's not about to start now.)

So she perseveres, and yeah, maybe she's a little harder on Rachel than is strictly necessary, but if Rachel thinks she's about to sleep her way to a free ride through midterms she can get straight back on the plane to Ohio.

"Schwimmer, I honestly think you should take a trip to the doctor's, because only some kind of severe inner ear infection could make you that horrifically unbalanced."

Rachel falls out of her pirouette, nearly colliding with the dancer next to her who shoots her an angry glare. Cassie watches as she purses her lips, straightens her back then tries again.

"Schwimmer that's just embarrassing, OK. Embarassing."

"What-" snaps Rachel, and Cassie raises her eyebrows. A few dancers turn round, and Rachel looks at them nervously before continuing more quietly, "What can I do better?"

"You could start by focussing properly on your spotting," says Cassie, moving forward to lift up her chin. "Find a spot on the wall. Don't let it go until the very last split-second, and find it again as soon as you turn." Rachel's staring up at her with wide eyes, still breathing heavily, and Cassie drops her hand suddenly and moves away.

"Again, Schwim," she orders, gesturing at her to turn. It's actually ok, and she concedes, "That'll do. It's all I've got the patience for today, at least." She can see Rachel's fuming, but it's not like this isn't run of the mill stuff.

Still, Rachel hangs out until the other students have all left the studio, then marches up to her at the piano.

"At least try and keep your criticisms constructive, _Ms July_," Rachel says scathingly, and Cassie sighs.

"Do you want people to know whose bed you've been in lately?" Cassie asks her. Rachel scowls, looking away and crossing her arms.

"I don't think anyone's about to suspect anything when you're setting a new record for insults per class," Rachel tells her sullenly.

"Well, how about," Cassie begins, moving forward to uncross Rachel's arms and slide her hands around her waist, "You come over to mine tonight, and enjoy this secret we're so wonderfully managing to keep? I'll make it worth your while," Cassie teases, and Rachel's lips twitch into a reluctant smirk.

When Rachel collapses onto Cassie's chest later that night, a contented grin plastered across her face, she doesn't seem to have any more complaints.

* * *

Cassie finds herself spending gradually more time with Rachel. She discovers a new challenge in finding places to take Rachel in the city where no one will see them, and she can't fight the buzz she gets at Rachel's ever-enraptured face at the new wonders Cassie introduces her to.

A lot of the time though, they stay in, and Cassie doesn't know what it is, but the sex just keeps on getting better. Sometimes it's rough and angry and Cassie leaves Rachel with hickeys she knows it takes an extra half-hours work in the morning to cover up; usually after days when Rachel's been particularly provocative in class, which Cassie is convinced is happening more and more just so they end up in situations like these, where Rachel's handcuffed to Cassie's bedpost, whining and straining in mad frustration.

"_Cassie!"_ she screams, as Cassie blows lightly over her swollen clit, and _god_, they should've been doing this months ago.

Other times it's slower and more intense, and somehow _sadder_, where Cassie finds herself desperately clinging to Rachel as if she's scared she's going to suddenly disappear. It's these times she usually ends up lying on top of Rachel's chest, falling asleep to the feel of Rachel's small, strong hands running through her hair.

"Where did you grow up?" Rachel asks her softly one night, just as she's drifting away.

"Kansas," Cassie responds without thinking.

"Were you the Wicked Witch of the West?" Rachel says, and Cassie can hear her smiling.

"Doesn't she turn out to be good in the end?" Cassie teases, and then falls silent as the implication of her words hits her.

Rachel says nothing either, but continues to stroke Cassie's hair until sleep pulls her away.

* * *

Something in the way Lucian said _maybe she does_ has got underneath Cassie's skin, though, and the fear that Rachel, with her impulsive, dramatic emotions, is developing some sort of attachment to her grows a little each day.

Sometime in early February a whole week passes where Rachel's so busy the only time Cassie sees her is in class, and it puts her in an awful mood. Mostly just due to frustration; but a part of Cassie _misses_ her, and that makes her even angrier.

They're revisiting the tango again today, and as the dancers pair off, Cassie represses a stab of jealousy at the male dancer whose waist Rachel currently has her leg wrapped round. It's like _Everytime_ all over again, except now Cassie's used to those legs round _her_ and it just… it fucking grates.

"Schwimmer, there's sensual, then there's trying to rub one off on your partner," Cassie snaps as she walks past them, and Rachel's cheeks flush in embarrassment, and she loses her step.

It continues like that for most of the lesson, with Cassie's criticisms going more and more below the bar, and Rachel becoming more and more frustrated. By the end of class Rachel's barely even reacting anymore, and Cassie knows she pushes just a little too far when she makes a lewd suggestion about her sexual prowess.

Rachel doesn't hover after class; she grabs her things and storms out, but Cassie has absolutely no time for her diva strops right now.

(She regrets it later that night, when she's writhing in frustration at her own fingers that are somehow nowhere near as adept as Rachel's.)

Rachel appears in her office early the next day, and she doesn't look like she's slept much.

"You were out of line yesterday," she says angrily as she marches over to Cassie. Cassie raises an eyebrow, moving round her desk to lean against it.

"Schwimmer-" she begins, but Rachel interrupts her.

"No, you listen to me," and Rachel says it so firmly that Cassie actually does, because she's never seen her quite like this. "The way you're acting is ridiculous and completely unjustified. I get that you're not going to be any nicer to me in class, but going out of your way to _humiliate_ me every time I dance with someone else?"

Cassie's eyes narrow. "Schwimmer, I am not _jealous_, if that's what you're accusing me of."

"Well what was that in class yesterday?" Rachel demands, gesturing angrily. "And what about the other week when that woman hit on me at that bar. Or back in January at the salsa club?"

"We're just fucking," Cassie tells her coldly. "And if you can't deal with that, then get the hell out of my office."

"You know what," says Rachel in a low voice. "I can deal with sleeping with you, and I can deal with your _unconventional_ methods. But I can't deal with someone who doesn't have an ounce of respect for me."

And with that she turns on her heel, and storms out of the office, leaving Cassie standing in shock.

* * *

She's literally too mad to even speak to Rachel for most of the next week, and when she does it's only a few, snapped criticisms. Rachel's clearly just as angry, determinedly trying to avoid looking at Cassie, but she doesn't miss the glances Rachel casts at her across class when her back's turned.

(She's pretty sure Rachel's waiting for her to apologise, but she's got to be fucking _joking_ if she thinks that's about to happen.)

And whatever, it was fun while it lasted. She'd pretty much expected for Schwimmer to blow up in her face the moment she discovered Cassie really was a cold-hearted bitch underneath her outer layers of cold-hearted bitch, and she couldn't care less.

(Aside from being _really _fucking frustrated without regular, mind-blowing orgasms, but the couple of men and women she picks up at bars do the job well enough.)

She's fucking _fine_.

Except a couple of weeks later and Rachel starts to look less mad, and more like a wounded puppy. Cassie brushes it off at first, but it gradually begins to wear her down, until her heart starts twinging with guilt whenever she glances over at Rachel to see her look away quickly with round, occasionally tearful eyes.

She almost confesses their argument to Lucian, except that makes it sound like they're having some kind of lovers spat, so she leaves it.

Instead, she spends several sleepless nights staring out at the nearly star-less sky, alternating between dark coffee and dark rum.

When Rachel bursts into laughter in the middle of class the next day, something in Cassie's heart softens. Rachel seems to feel her gaze, and glances over, and the brief lick of her lips before she looks away sends tingles through Cassie's body.

She switches her lesson plan and divides the class of into pairs, beckoning Rachel over to her.

"Schwim, with me."

Rachel comes over slightly hesitantly, but she's clearly biting back a smile. Cassie pulls her into hold, and the feel of Rachel's hand on her back and the other almost _caressing_ her arm is so familiar it makes her heart ache a little.

The music changes, and they begin to dance. Cassie says nothing, but her eyes don't leave Rachel's as they turn around the floor, moving almost perfectly in time with the music. She can feel her heartbeat quickening far too quickly, and her body somehow instinctively moving closer to Rachel's, and maybe she has missed this a bit.

"Keep your back straight," Cassie tells her, pressing against Rachel's spine, and she feels Rachel's soft body collide tantalisingly with her own.

"That's good, Schwimmer," she says softly, and Rachel shoots her a smirk.

It's not an apology, exactly, but Cassie feels something shift; and it seems to be enough for Rachel, who's clearly missed Cassie just as much if the sounds coming from her mouth as Cassie pins her against the piano are anything to go by.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for the amazing comments I've received over the past week or so, I'm so glad people are enjoying reading this story as much as I am writing it! This chapter's a little shorter than usual, but I'm already ploughing on with the next two so they should be up soon.**

* * *

So.

They're wandering round Chelsea, and Cassie has absolutely _no_ idea where they're going, but she'd agreed to let Rachel 'surprise' her, something which she'd regretted pretty much as soon as the words left her mouth.

(She's still feeling a little guilty about being such a bitch to her, so when Rachel proposes she takes her somewhere she's 'been dying to go for _ages_', Cassie lets herself be persuaded with only minimal objection.

It doesn't hurt that Rachel's topless and curled up against her, stroking her stomach when she asks.)

"Schwimmer, _where_ are we going?" she asks for about the fifth time that evening.

"You'll see, you'll see!" Rachel tells her, and Cassie rolls her eyes. She never quite understands where Rachel gets her boundless enthusiasm for life from, and wonders sometimes if she had a particularly blissful childhood.

(Something in Rachel's stubborn resilience to Cassie's borderline persecution of her makes her think otherwise, though, but that thought always causes her heart to twinge uncomfortably, so she pushes it away.)

They round a corner into a dingy, gaudy street, with honest to god _fairy lights_ hanging from one of the buildings, and she's basically about to turn and run when Rachel grabs her hand, and goes, "Ok, now you have to promise not to get mad-"

"Schwimmer… "

"-but it's all anyone's been talking about on off-off-Broadway and it's _hilarious_ and really sarcastic and a little dark, so I thought you might like it…"

Cassie's chest feels like it's shrunk in on itself, and her expression literally freezes as she tries to keep her rush of emotions in check. She takes a deep breath, and glances at Rachel, who's looking up at her hopefully and a little nervously, and all she wants to do is tell her exactly where to go and high tail it back to her loft; but upsetting Rachel _again_ is possibly the only thing worse than walking into that theatre right now.

(And when the fuck did _that_ happen anyway?)

"I swear to god, if we see _anyone_…" Cassie says warningly, but Rachel's already dragging her inside with a huge grin plastered across her face.

She hasn't been inside a theatre in about seven years; not since she went to watch one of Lucian's new plays and got so drunkenly hysterical she was asked to leave.

(He'd spent the better part of the evening trying to calm her down instead of talking to the press, and it took about six months for him to forgive her for that.)

It's a small, fading little place, slightly musty and with the faint sound of old pipes buzzing away in the distance. It reminds her of the places she worked in when she was still at high school, trying to fit in rehearsals _and _classes_ and_ a bar job to help her mother pay the rent on her tiny Brooklyn apartment. She grips Rachel's hand tighter before she can stop herself, but Rachel doesn't show any signs of letting go. She shows their tickets to the usher and chats excitedly to him about the show, seemingly oblivious to Cassie's discomfort except for the small, soothing movements of her thumb on Cassie's hand.

Her heart clenches when she sees the stage, faded velvet curtains still hanging closed and the orchestra tuning up in front. Rachel leads them to their seats – thankfully near the back, and she feels a sudden wave of gratitude to Rachel who undoubtedly usually sits in the front three rows of every show she sees – and Cassie sinks down, crossing her legs and clenching her hands tightly in her lap. Rachel's reading through the programme, making excited little noises every thirty seconds, but Cassie's throat has gone dry and all she can do is sit in silence.

Shit, she can't do this. She can't sit through this again. She has to get out.

"Schwim-"

But then the lights dim and Rachel gasps and claps her hands together, and she looks so fucking happy that Cassie just closes her eyes for a moment, sinks back into her seat and bites her lip. When she opens her eyes again she's composed, and if Rachel notices anything she doesn't say.

The curtains open and a striking woman of some Latina background she can't place begins to sing about meeting her childhood sweetheart twenty years on, and Cassie rolls her eyes so hard it actually hurts.

But the woman's voice is beautiful, and the song is well-written and it actually is kind of funny in the dry way that Cassie loves, and it has a similar feel to the things Lucian writes. She forces herself to focus on the song and its layers of innuendo and snark, and not on what it would feel like to jump up on that stage and start singing herself…

The story draws her in, though, as the woman recounts the dreams she gave up her young love for, and the successes she achieved. It feels so bittersweet, and it grips Cassie, and she gets swept up in the emotion of this woman's journey in a way she hasn't let herself be since she was last performing.

And then suddenly it all comes crashing down, and the woman's sobbing on stage with her life in ruins, and Cassie's hand comes up to her mouth in horror.

(And for a moment she can't fucking believe Rachel dragged her to something so goddamn heartbreaking.)

She's blinking away the tears as fast as she can but they just keep falling. Her make up's going to be a fucking _mess_ but that's the least of her worries, because there's people all around them; and maybe they can't see, maybe they don't even know who she is, but Rachel does. Rachel who she's bullied and teased and worked harder than anything to hide all her insecurities and weaknesses from and convince her that Cassie's better than her. Rachel who is the absolute last person she'd ever want to see her cry.

(And suddenly the pain that hit her when she sung _but to cry in front of you, that's the worst thing I could do_ comes back with such a heavy dose of irony she almost laughs.)

But then Rachel takes Cassie's hand in both of her own and holds it in her lap. Cassie's breath hitches for a moment, but she starts stroking so soothingly with her thumb that the cries Cassie's been biting back force their way out her chest, and she slams a hand across her mouth to stop herself from making a sound as she sobs. She can't think or feel anything apart from longing and despair and humiliation and the aching sting of regret, and she hangs on to the feel of Rachel's touch like an anchor to pull her through the waves of emotion hitting her.

She watches as the woman on stage claws her life back together, and something in her resolute determination to carry on makes Cassie suddenly so ashamed. Her tears dry up, and her chest settles, and expands with not _hope_ exactly, but…

They walk home in silence, and it's not awkward, exactly, and Rachel's still sniffling away as she tries to compose herself.

"Schwim…"

She can't quite bring herself to say _thank you_, because that would mean acknowledging the gravity of what just happened, and Cassie can't face admitting to Rachel the emotions running through her right now.

(She suspects Rachel knows, anyway, from the look of understanding on her face, but she's just too tired to be angry about it anymore.)

She's exhausted, honestly, and she just wants to curl up in a ball in her duvet and never face anyone again. But it's so late and Rachel lives so far away, so she ushers her into her loft and silently climbs into bed. She turns away from Rachel so she can finally hide her face, but when Rachel slowly wraps her arms around her and snuggles up behind her, Cassie can't resist tugging her arms underneath her own and pulling her in a little tighter.

Rachel falls asleep soon after, but she lies awake for what feels like hours. She lets the tears fall silently down her cheeks, and for the first time in a really long time something in her chest uncoils.

* * *

Rachel disappears off back to Bushwick the next morning as usual, saying absolutely nothing about Cassie's minor breakdown the night before or her puffy, red eyes when she wakes up. Cassie can't quite believe she's able to keep her mouth shut, and avoids her as much as possible in class for the next week in case she's just storing up all her questions and teenage insistence they just _sing about their feelings_.

(Because that's worked out for her so fucking well in the past.)

Rachel, however, seems to be attempting to give her space, judging by how she looks away quickly whenever Cassie glances over to find her watching her in concern, and how she never lingers after class but just offers Cassie a small smile as she leaves with her rest of the students. By Friday Cassie manages to swallow the fear rising in her chest and makes a snarky joke about Rachel's skimpy leotard as she saunters past, which has Rachel blushing and attempting to glare at the same time. Cassie doesn't miss her pleased smile in the mirror, though, and she feels a little like she's gained back some control.

(Even more so when she's ripping the leotard off Rachel later that night as she rides and thrusts against Cassie's face unashamedly wantonly.)

It's basically exactly the same as every other time they've had sex, except the next morning Cassie pulls Rachel back into bed when she tries to leave, and spends another hour going down on her just to find an excuse for why.

"This is bliss," sighs Rachel happily as she sinks back against the pillows, Cassie sliding up her body to collapse next to her. "I could never leave."

Cassie bites her lip, and then says in what she hopes is a casual voice, "Stay here for the day."

"Really?" says Rachel happily, and Cassie occupies herself with trailing her fingers over Rachel's stomach so she doesn't have to look at her face.

"Yeah," Cassie replies. "I'll make it worth your while."

Rachel chuckles, and Cassie can't help but lift her head to grin at her.

Rachel stays for most of the rest of the day, and they only have sex once more, but it's somehow still one of the best days Cassie's had in years. They just kind of hang out, curled up on Cassie's sofa with their legs just brushing, as Rachel makes her laugh with stories of her high school Glee club. She's still unsure as to what exactly Rachel's high school experience was like – she doesn't seem willing to share, and Cassie's not about to pry – but she can just imagine Rachel in all her over-enthusiasm bossing about a group of resigned musical theatre kids, and it actually seems kind of adorable.

Rachel stays over more after that weekend. Sometimes Cassie invites her over a little earlier in the evening and they watch really bad reality TV and eat takeout before going to bed. Sometimes she stays for a few hours the next morning and Cassie makes a gesture at cooking her breakfast and they take long, leisurely baths together.

It's nice. She's _happy_. It's not a big deal.

* * *

One Wednesday evening Cassie calls Rachel up, and Rachel mumbles something about being busy with homework. She's about to shrug it off and hang up, but something in Rachel's voice catches her.

"You OK, Schwim?" she asks, and she hears Rachel heave a huge sigh.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she attempts, and really, Rachel needs to seriously fucking work on her acting skills.

"Schwim, what's happened?" she says in a kind of resigned voice, but she can't help feeling a little concerned.

"Nothing, it's just… in theatre we had this writing assignment and I'm _really_ not good at play writing but I tried so hard, and then we had to perform it today and… oh Cassie it was _horrible_, and everyone was sniggering and I don't understand why playwriting is a requirement for _Broadway actresses_."

Rachel sniffles, and she frowns for a moment at the thought of Rachel being publicly humiliated in the middle of her class.

(Which- yeah OK, she's not oblivious to the fact that she's done that for a good half of the last nine months, but she was making a _point_.

And she does it to everyone.

And…)

"Well, Schwim, you're either going to have to become an incredible playwright overnight, or learn to deal with idiots laughing at you, in public, on stage, at something you've worked _incredibly_ hard on."

Rachel sniffs again.

"Did that, did that happen to you?" she asks hesitantly.

"More times than I can count," Cassie tells her. "Once when I was 19 I had to prepare my own dance interpretation of a monologue for an audition, and I was literally laughed off the stage. And then when I got out into the wings, all the other actors were in hysterics as well."

"But you're the best dancer I know!" Rachel says in disbelief, and Cassie can't help but smile at that.

"Yeah exactly, but sometimes you can be the best and you still screw up, or people don't like what you've done with a piece, or the girl after you is sleeping with the director," Cassie says dryly.

"Isn't that kind of what I'm doing now?" Rachel teases, and Cassie snorts.

"Schwimmer, no amount of sex in the world is going to get you a free ride in midterms next month."

Rachel laughs, and Cassie smiles happily, relieved she's managed to divert some kind of crisis.

"I'm gonna go now, Schwim," she tells her.

"OK," Rachel replies, and Cassie can hear she's still smiling. "Cassie… thank you."

"See you tomorrow, Schwimmer."

* * *

Rachel kind of becomes a regular fixture in Cassie's life, and Cassie honestly doesn't even know when or how that happened. She just wakes up one morning and realises she's spent every day that week with Rachel in some form, and she doesn't even mind. She just feels her heart swell a little in contentment because her loft's starting to feel a little quiet when Rachel's not in it, and her bed's cold and empty and it's always harder to sleep.

She's dimly aware of this constant, vague feeling of panic that Rachel's suddenly going to disappear, but she pushes it away because they're just having so much _fun._

(And maybe she shouldn't be quite so accepting of Rachel skipping class to stay in her bed, or bailing on her friends to go out with her, but she feels like she's living in some addictive, rosy bubble and she doesn't want it to burst.)

When Cassie stops to think for a moment – which she doesn't much, anymore, because it just hurts her head – Rachel seems just as addicted as her, bending and changing and relinquishing more and more control to Cassie.

(And she's not abusing it, whatever Lucian says, because she's not even a bitch to her in class anymore. She's probably _too_ nice, or at least too familiar, but she doesn't really give a fuck as long as it means she has Rachel.)

Rachel's make-up darker and her clothes are skimpier and she doesn't look _anything_ like the girl who first walked into Cassie's class. And it's not just the leotard barely covering her breasts; it's the constant insecurity Cassie can see in her eyes that she's not quite sexy enough, which is _ridiculous_, because most of Cassie's classes these days are spent not trying to throw Rachel up against the piano.

One day she just gives up all together, and the last student has barely made it out of the door before she slams it shut and does just that.

"I didn't think… we could do this… in public…" Rachel gasps, tousled hair falling back against the polished wood as she writhes against Cassie.

"Then maybe you should stop driving me crazy in class," Cassie tells her hoarsely. Rachel grins wickedly before she cries and falls apart under Cassie's hands.

* * *

More than once Rachel bursts into tears whilst she's at Cassie's loft. The first time is fucking terrifying, and she very nearly tells Rachel to harden the fuck up and take her waterworks somewhere else. But she quickly discovers it's usually over no more than an emotional solo she sung that day, or an argument with her flatmate, or Barbra releasing new tour dates. Those times Cassie lets Rachel cry it out before they carry on doing whatever they were doing before.

Sometimes, though, Cassie catches Rachel silently crying for what appears to be no apparent reason, huddled brokenly on the corner of her couch or next to her in bed. Those are the times Cassie learns something is genuinely wrong, something that Rachel doesn't want to burden Cassie with but at the same time desperately needs comforting about.

Those times Cassie draws her into her arms and strokes her hair whilst Rachel sobs into her shoulder. She doesn't let go until Rachel's cried enough to choke out what's wrong, and Cassie can find a way of cheering her up by snarkily belittling whoever's upset her or sharing a story of her own or just giving her advice.

She doesn't know why she's doing it, why she's sitting in her bed cuddling a nineteen year old girl some casting director had the nerve to call unattractive, but all she wants to do anymore is just make sure Rachel's happy.

A lot of the time that involves taking more and more risks, running round the city hand in hand with Rachel, laughing their heads off, in danger of being seen but unable to care when Rachel jumps up on a karaoke stage, blows her a kiss and proceeds to seduce the entire audience with the most raunchy version of _Whistle_ she's ever seen in her life, smouldering all the while at Cassie across the room.

This whole thing started just to see how much she could mess with Rachel's head, but now she feels like she's being dragged along through some crazy adventure by this beautiful, laughing girl and she doesn't ever want it to end.

* * *

She's never actually _asked_ Rachel if she's seeing someone else, she's just assumed she isn't.

(Like she'd even have enough hours in the day between classes and the amount of time she spends in Cassie's loft, anyway.)

But then she sees Rachel and Brody laughing together in the corridor one day, and jealously hits her so hard and strong she almost punches something. Or someone. Her eyes narrow as she walks towards them, Rachel playing with her hair as Brody regales her with some well-used story.

"Don't you have some weights you should be lifting or something Brody?" she asks loudly, and Rachel turns round in surprise. "Those abs won't keep themselves," she says sweetly, and Brody looks unimpressed. He seems to get the message, though, and smiles at Rachel before walking away.

Rachel opens her mouth to say something, but Cassie just gives her a look before she stalks past her into the dance studio. Rachel looks a little nervous when she follows her in, but Cassie ignores that anything just happened – because honestly, she just doesn't want to see Rachel embarrass herself with someone destined for the chorus, at best – and starts her lesson.

(And maybe she's a little icier to Rachel than usual, but whatever, her balance is horrendous.

And Rachel still agrees to come back to her loft, so…)

"Is there something going on with you and Brody?" Cassie asks, slightly sullenly, later that evening as they're on the couch eating noodles.

"No," says Rachel, looking up in surprise. Cassie bites her lip.

"He looked very friendly earlier," Cassie says a little more sharply, stabbing at the noodles with her chopsticks.

"He's a friendly person," Rachel says, shrugging. Cassie snorts, before throwing her chopsticks down and stalking over to her kitchen counter.

"Cassie, we're just friends!" Rachel insists, uncomprehending. Cassie chucks her food on the countertop before whipping round to look at Rachel.

"Rachel, I know what Brody's idea of friendship is, OK," Cassie tells her snarkily. Rachel's eyes widen in surprise and Cassie realises she just used Rachel's first name. It wrong foots her completely, and she snaps, "You know what, if you want to fuck Brody, that's fine!"

Rachel jumps up. "Oh, you're one to talk about _fucking Brody_," she says angrily, her eyes flashing as she moves over to Cassie. Cassie feels like she's been stabbed, and for a moment her breath catches in her throat.

Then she rolls her eyes so hard her entire head moves and yells, "It was just sex!"

"Well, isn't that what this is?!" Rachel demands indignantly, and Cassie freezes, because she _knows_ Rachel's calling her bluff right now. "Because if it is you shouldn't have a problem with _whoever_ I spend my time with when I'm not here."

Cassie can't say anything. She can't even meet Rachel's flashing eyes, challenging her to cross a line they'd silently agreed to never even acknowledge. Rachel shakes her head and laughs in disbelief, before she snatches her bag from the couch and stalks across the room.

Cassie literally _cannot breathe_ as her worst nightmare comes to life. She can't lose her, she _can't_.

Then the tenuous grip she has on her dignity and control slips completely, and she strides across the room after Rachel, catching her arm just as she reaches for the door.

"What?!" shouts Rachel, whipping round. But Cassie doesn't answer. She just shoves Rachel roughly against the door and crashes their mouths together, wrapping her arms tightly around Rachel's body. For a second she's terrified Rachel's going to shove her away, but maybe she's learnt to speak Cassie's language now, because she just sort of melts into Cassie as if this was the answer she wanted.

"You're mine, ok?" Cassie tells her breathlessly, nipping sharply at her neck because she's always been better with her body than with words. Rachel gasps, head tipping back against the wall as nails dig into Cassie's back. "You're mine." Her bites turn into kisses, up and down Rachel's neck until she presses her lips back softly against Rachel's.

Rachel's small hands push her back slightly, so she can look at her with wide, shining eyes and say softly, "I'm yours, I promise." And it breaks Cassie's heart, because it's all she's both ever and never wanted to hear. Rachel tucks a strand of Cassie's hair behind her ear, and Cassie can't resist letting her eyes flutter closed for a moment and leaning into Rachel's touch.

Cassie carries her slowly to her bed, and they kiss languidly with their limbs tangled up in one another, hands stroking and caressing everywhere they can reach. All Cassie can think about is finding a way to make her stay, make sure she never, ever leaves her. And it _terrifies_ her. She's given up all her cards to this girl without even knowing how. She wants to shove Rachel out of her bed and her loft and her life but she just _can't_.

So instead she slowly peels off Rachel's blouse, brushing her lips almost imperceptibly across her stomach and watches as Rachel's abs flutter in reaction. She tip toes her fingers across her stomach, marvelling at the soft skin until Rachel misses her mouth too much and pulls them back together. Cassie loses herself in their kiss, and barely notices as Rachel rolls them over until she's straddling Cassie.

Christ she's _gorgeous_. Cassie watches breathless as Rachel slowly peels off her bra, sliding it off her body as she smiles seductively down at Cassie. She leans over her teasingly, her hair forming a curtain around them as Cassie's hands stroke up and down her sides.

"You're so beautiful, Rachel," she whispers, and the look of joy and amazement and disbelief in Rachel's eyes at those words _breaks her heart_, because she knows, she _knows_ how entirely she convinced Rachel of the complete opposite.

Rachel leans down to kiss her with such passion her entire body feels like it bursts into flame, heat tingling from her crotch all the way down to her toes. They barely break contact, even as they slowly peel off each other's clothes, gasping breathlessly before they come back together. And _god_ Rachel's good with her fingers now, hitting some spot inside of her that sets every nerve in her body on fire. They claw at each other as they move, as if they can't get close enough, and when they come apart, almost simultaneously, they both have tears sliding down their cheeks.

Rachel burrows into Cassie's side as they fall asleep, and Cassie doesn't let her body go for the entire night.


	9. Chapter 9

So.

Cassie wakes up to find herself still clutching onto Rachel, whose sleeping head is currently nestled in Cassie's breasts. She's snoring lightly, as always, with a content smile on her face, and Cassie honestly doesn't think anyone has ever been so perfect.

She knows, she _knows_ how she feels, she knows how deep she's in, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that Rachel is here, with her, and that she's _hers_.

(She's too terrified to think about what that means, exactly, because there's no way she could manage anything other than this casual affair they've got going.

Except it's not casual, not anymore, but the thought that Rachel might want something else now makes her chest constrict in fear.)

All she wants to know is that Rachel isn't going anywhere and nothing's going to change. And she was honestly so convinced of the former last night, when Rachel clawed into her and insisted she belonged to Cassie, in between desperate kisses and loving caresses. But there's a creeping terror growing slowly inside her that Rachel is going to want something from her she just can't give. She's seen the depths of Rachel's heart and the intensity of her emotions when she stands up on stage and pours every ounce into her performance, and it renders her awestruck constantly. But she knows that someone with so much emotion to give needs to receive so much security and validation and connection in return, and Cassie doesn't even think she could be _capable_ of that, even if the idea didn't terrify her to the core.

Maybe Rachel really is hers, right at this moment, but sooner or later she's just going to ask too much of Cassie, and she knows the deeper they get the nearer that point approaches.

She clings tighter to Rachel instinctively, brushing her hair gently out of her eyes.

* * *

Lucian corners her one of the rare weekends Rachel isn't at her place.

"This makes a nice change," he comments as they munch at Thai takeout on her couch.

"What, Thai?" Cassie asks.

"You finding a break in your busy schedule of sleeping with your student to actually see your friend," Lucian says coolly. Cassie sighs angrily, putting down her food.

"Come on, you might as well get this off your chest. I wouldn't want to disturb your dinner," she tells him sweetly.

"You have to stop seeing her," Lucian says matter of factly. Cassie laughs for a moment, but the smile dies from her lips when she registers his serious expression.

"You don't get to tell me what to do," she replies icily calmly.

"No, I don't," Lucian concedes. "But you're one slip away from losing your job, Cassandra."

Her eyes narrow, because seriously he's not her fucking _grandmother_.

"Oh, don't-"

"You're a teacher who's basically living with her student. When you're not even in a relationship. And she's still taking your class."

Cassie's deathly silent, staring stonily out of the window.

She knows what she's doing, but _christ_ when Lucian lays it out like that…

"You have to end it."

"I can't…" she says brokenly, her voice cracking.

"Cassie you have to."

Cassie's head snaps round to look at Lucian in defiance, but all he sees is her trembling lip and shining eyes and her game is given away completely.

(He's known her from the days when she still cried openly like she is now, and part of her briefly wonders how she's hidden it from him for this long.)

"Oh, _Cass_," Lucian sighs in anguish, and his firm expression melts away as he moves across the couch in an instant to wrap his arms round Cassie. Her head barely meets his chest before she dissolves into sobs, burrowing up against him as if she can just hide a little longer from everything she's feeling.

"Cassie," Lucian says soothingly, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. "Baby, it's ok. It's gonna be ok."

Cassie really wishes she could believe that, even for a second.

* * *

Cassie feels like someone has simultaneously ripped her heart from her chest and squeezed her lungs dry when she wakes up the next morning. She hobbles barefoot across her loft as if she's attained some major injury, and as she sinks into the corner of her couch, cradling her black coffee, she muses that no broken ankle or sprained wrist has ever been as painful as this.

She sits sipping at her coffee almost unmoved for the next hour. There's nowhere she can escape this, nothing she can do to forget. Lucian's still sleeping in her room next door – and that's just another wound to her already mutilated heart, how achingly she'd wished it was Rachel's arms wrapped round her in comfort the night before – and she desperately wants to leave before he wakes up, but her limbs feel like lead.

She couldn't move even if she knew where to go.

Lucian pads out eventually, and makes two more coffees before he sits softly down next to her. They sit drinking silently for a while, and Cassie knows Lucian would sit in silence with her the whole day if she needed him too, but maybe letting a few words out will get some of this debilitating weight off her body.

"I just wanted to see if I could," she croaks. Lucian says nothing, but calmly sips his drink, waiting for her to continue. "She was so… she was so arrogant," she laughs brokenly, "And stubborn, and determined. And she was so goddamn talented. But then she turned out to be nothing at all like I expected, and I just couldn't let go."

She bites her lip, and takes a calming breath.

"I obviously never thought this would happen," she tells Lucian, looking ashamed. "I honestly thought I was in control."

"Cassie, you can't control your emotions," Lucian tells her gently.

"Well, I've got pretty good at it over the last ten years," she says darkly.

"No you haven't. You've just got good at pretending you don't feel them."

Cassie rolls her eyes, and sniffles.

"It's that damn girl and her furby eyes," Cassie says, and she tries to be angry about it but she can feel the smile tugging at her lips. Lucian's silent, and when she looks over she can see him fighting some kind of inner battle.

"Look, what can I… I can't…" Cassie trails off, because she can't even say the words out loud, let alone try and justify them.

"Yeah, I know," Lucian tells her, always intuitively understanding. "But I stand by what I said last night; I think you need to get her out of your life. This is incredibly unhealthy."

Cassie's heart feels like it collapses in on itself, and she sips shakily at her coffee just to fight back the fresh onslaught of tears.

"Obviously I can see you're not about to do that," Lucian admits. "And I do not… I'm not even going to go there with embarking on some relationship with your student," he continues, shaking his head in despair. "But whatever you decide to do, you can't do it while she's still in your class."

Cassie rests her elbow on the sofa and leans into her hand, rubbing at her aching temples.

"I just need some time," she says quietly. "I just… I just need some time."

* * *

Cassie curses herself for uttering those words as mid-terms roll around and Rachel all but disappears from her life.

She is _not_ pining (because after her minor-breakdown she's holding firmly onto her last shreds of dignity); she just misses Rachel's laugh, and her smirks across the dance studio, and that twinkle in her eyes spelling the _best_ kind of trouble, and the way she burrows into Cassie's body late at night, and how Cassie feels almost like she has someone to come home to…

She's not pining.

What she is doing: anything to avoid thinking. Which – she's basically in the tenth circle of hell, being left alone with her thoughts. It's her least favourite pastime, after attending anything Broadway related, and being nice to Lucian's egotistical boyfriend.

She spends as much time as possible in the dance studio, focussing on constructing an elaborate routine rather than whether or not she scared Rachel with her desperation.

(Because she goddamn scared herself.)

She sees Rachel once, very briefly, somewhere in the middle of exams. She's just lazily stretching out at the barre after her last terrified examinee of the day has left, when Rachel pokes her head into the room, beaming as she spots Cassie.

"Hey, oh my god, I'm so sorry, I've missed you so much!" she says in a breathless rush, running over to kiss Cassie briefly. "I've got to go, I've got to study! I'll see you at my exam tomorrow!"

And then she's off again, hurrying back out of the dance studio, as Cassie sing-songs sadly, "Bye-e."

Rachel's exam is basically torture; an hour of studying Rachel's form as she performs an intricate set of exercises that Cassie has to attempt to scrutinise. Her brain is not cooperating and she ends up staring absently at Rachel's _perfect_ body as she thinks over and over again how she can possibly find a way to let this girl go.

When the music ends and Rachel looks over at her expectantly, Cassie realises she's staring a little too intensely. She shakes herself, blushing furiously (and christ she hasn't blushed since she was fifteen) and dismisses Rachel, not meeting the shy smile that she shoots Cassie's way as she leaves.

(She definitely marks her too generously, but Rachel will have another teacher soon to put her back in her place. It's sure as hell not going to be her anymore.)

* * *

They're sitting on the couch eating salad – except Cassie's really just pushing hers around the bowl, trying to work up the courage to even begin this conversation she would literally rather walk over burning coals than have.

"Is everything okay?" Rachel asks slowly, and Cassie looks up in surprise. Rachel's watching her in such concern it makes Cassie's heart wrench.

"Yeah. Course," Cassie says lightly, attempting a smile before she goes back to her food. A few moments pass, and then, "Schwimmer-"

She's interrupted by the loud blast of _Don't Rain on My Parade_ emitting from Rachel's phone.

"Shoot," Rachel says, hurriedly swallowing her food as she reaches forward to answer the call. "Hello? Yeah, I'm at… I'm at Cassie's."

Cassie swallows audibly. So Rachel _has_ told her friends about them.

"What, are you _serious_? Moving in?! Oh my god…. Yeah, okay…. Yeah I'll be like half an hour." Rachel hangs up and grabs her things.

"I'm so sorry, I've got to go," she says in a rush, searching for her shoes. "Santana's just turned up at the apartment saying she's _moving in_?!"

Cassie has literally no idea who the fuck Santana is, but she's currently number one on her hit list for dragging Rachel away _of all the moments_.

"Okay, um, I'll see you later?" Cassie asks, as Rachel leans forward to kiss her.

"I dunno, maybe!" Rachel replies, rushing out of the loft. "I'll call you!"

But Santana causes such havoc that she doesn't see Rachel for an entire week. What she does get: two rushed phone calls and several texts of apologies and lamentations that Rachel misses her and suggestive comments about how she'll make it up to her.

It drives her _crazy_.

The more she's forced to live without Rachel the more she realises she can't do it at all, and it terrifies her. She doesn't eat and barely sleeps for most of the week; all she does is dance around her studio until she's collapsing with exhaustion, and then she sits with a mug of black coffee by her huge windows for most of the night, staring out across the city as she tries to pick one clear thought out of the blizzard in her mind.

But every time she so much as considers seriously committing to Rachel she's hit with a wave of fear so hard it sucks the breath from her lungs, closely followed by panic at the idea Rachel might not actually want her at all.

And then she's back at the start, unable to find some way of securing her happiness and sanity, but crippled at the idea of trying to push Rachel out of her life.

(All she can picture is Rachel's bright little face crumpling with hurt and the belief Cassie truly doesn't care about her at _all_ and she just can't do it.)

She can feel her entire life spiralling out of control and there's not a thing she can do to stop it.

* * *

Rachel comes up to her after class the next Wednesday, smiling happily.

"Hey!" she says, as Cassie busies herself with noting down some choreography just so she can put off having to look at Rachel.

"Long time, no see, Schwim," Cassie says casually.

"I know, I'm so sorry, but it's been an absolute _nightmare_ with Santana – although I think everything's settled for now. But _honestly_ Cassie she just waltzed in, demanding _my_ walk-in wardrobe space for her bedroom and-"

"No offence, Schwim, but I really don't care about your baby Broadway drama," Cassie tells her, and when Rachel's silent she actually looks up, her heart twinging for a moment.

Rachel just rolls her eyes, though, and says, "Look, I just wanted to know if you're free tonight? I have to go out of town tomorrow, so…"

"Oh? Where are you going?" Cassie asks.

"Just back to Ohio," sighs Rachel, moving to lean against the piano. "It's Mr. Schue's wedding and all the Glee club are going back home for it. He's hiring out some big hotel so we're all staying the night and flying back Sunday."

"Cute," says Cassie dryly. "All your high school friends as in… your ex-boyfriend…?" she asks, with an exaggerated pout.

Rachel rolls her eyes again.

"Yes, Finn will be there, if that's what you're talking about," she tells her.

"Drunk in a hotel with your ex," Cassie says drolly, moving to assemble her choreography from the piano. "Sounds like a recipe for fun."

"Cassie, nothing's going to happen," Rachel insists, following her round the piano. Cassie bristles. "I'm over Finn and he's over me, and in any case…" She trails off, gesturing at Cassie.

Cassie bites her lip.

"Whatever, Schwim. I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah," says Rachel, suddenly smiling at her like an over-excited puppy. "I'll bring food." She leans forward to press her lips against Cassie's, still smiling.

"Hmm, well I can't expect any alcohol I guess," Cassie says into her mouth. Rachel swats at her arm, and kisses her one last time before pulling away and almost skipping out the door.

Cassie leans against the piano, suddenly feeling exhausted.

* * *

Despite Rachel's assurances, this niggling feeling about her high school rendezvous plagues her for the rest of the day. It's the kind of low-level worry she's had for a while, but she's always been so good at forcing it into the background; and yet since her evening with Lucian she's feeling everything at ten times its normal intensity. She's been rendered incapable of pushing any of these goddamn emotions away, and all she can think about is how much Rachel loved her ex and god why is she _crying_?

Cassie hastily wipes the tears away, and takes a deep breath, blinking hard. She catches sight of her reflection in the huge mirrors of her dark studio, and she stops moving for a moment as she realises how raw and _open_ she looks.

She's a fucking mess.

Rachel's torn through every layer of icy control to bury herself deep in Cassie's heart, so subtly and gently she hasn't even noticed until Rachel's laid roots in every corner of her body and her mind and her life, and the only way to remove her is to tear every inch of herself apart.

(She's pretty sure that's what's happening right now, because that's what it _feels_ like.)

And she can't do it. She can't.

* * *

Cassie opens the door of her loft to see Rachel smiling seductively up at her.

"Hey," she says, moistening her lips briefly.

"Hey," Cassie breathes, willing herself not to sound as nervous as she feels. Her eyes catch sight of Rachel's plunging neckline, black cotton tugging tantalisingly over the curve of Rachel's breasts.

"Can I… come in?" Rachel asks, and Cassie realises she's staring.

"I… yeah of course," says Cassie, stepping back to let Rachel through the door. "Do you want some wine?"

"Mm, maybe later," says Rachel, turning round to grab Cassie's shirt and pull her softly towards her. Rachel kisses her deeply, firm hands sliding round Cassie's waist to pull them closer together, and Cassie knows she's missed her just as much as she's missed Rachel.

Cassie's fingers play with Rachel's hair, and even as they kiss hungrily, they're still so gentle. Rachel takes her time probing Cassie's mouth with her tongue, hands coming up to cup her face like she's trying to anchor herself, her thumb rubbing affectionately at Cassie's cheek.

"God I missed you," Cassie whispers in between kisses. Rachel moans, nipping lightly at her lip.

"I missed you too," she says breathily. "Come on." She takes Cassie's hand and Cassie lets herself be led to her bedroom.

* * *

"Are you ok?" Rachel asks her later, looking up in concern from where she's curled up against Cassie's side. "You seem kind of quiet."

"I'm just worn out," Cassie tells her, with a wicked smirk, and Rachel smiles, batting her stomach affectionately.

"That's never stopped you before," she teases.

"I'm fine, Schwim," Cassie reassures her, forcing back the stabbing pain in her chest. "It's just been a long week."

"Well, I hope I've gone some way to making it a satisfactory end," Rachel says, tip toing her fingers across Cassie's stomach.

"As always," Cassie tells her, completely bypassing the innuendo in favour of kissing the top of Rachel's head. "Come on, I'm starving. Let's see whether you manage to poison me or not."

"It would be _entirely_ justified," Rachel tells her, rolling off the bed and completely missing the flash of hurt in Cassie's eyes.

Rachel tugs on her kimono – and it really does look a thousand times better on Rachel, hugging her tanned curves perfectly – and shoots Cassie a grin before heading out to her kitchen. Cassie lies back against the pillows, running a hand through her hair as she closes her eyes and tries to calm the buzzing in her mind.

She focuses on something concrete; like the faint tingling that's still between her legs, or the sound of Rachel clattering about in the kitchen.

(Things that make her feel happy. Things that make her feel at home.

The panic rises in her chest again.)

"Cassie!" Rachel calls, her clear voice bringing Cassie back to reality. She gets up and throws on an oversized shirt before padding into the kitchen, where Rachel's waiting on the couch, beaming at her as she holds out a glass of wine.

"Have you taken to raiding my wine cupboards now Schwim?" Cassie asks she takes it from her, sitting down.

"I know how to please a lady," Rachel teases, and the look Cassie levels her makes her blush.

"Mm, don't I know it," she hums in a low voice, and Rachel smiles somehow both seductively and dotingly at the same time.

(It's a look she's mastered well.)

"I often think I'd make Santana proud," Rachel tells her, sipping her wine.

"Yeah, so who is this elusive Santana?" Cassie asks, trying to fight back the images of some Latina lesbian wandering around Rachel in her underwear.

"Former closeted cheerleader turned Broadway-wannabe power lesbian," Rachel replies without a hint of sarcasm, and Cassie raises an eyebrow, barely suppressing her laughter.

"God, Schwim, as if your life wasn't a caricature of itself enough."

"Hey!" Rachel says, batting her on the arm. "She's a wonderful friend, even if she does steal all of the hot water at 7am and appears to be working her way through New York's lesbian scene in the room next door… loudly."

"So, what, did you guys get it on in high school when you weren't busy being eaten alive by the Unincredible Hulk?" Cassie asks dryly, smirking into her wine.

"No!" Rachel exclaims, looking scandalised.

(Cassie can't help the twinge of relief.)

"No, we didn't-! I mean, Santana is gorgeous, obviously," Rachel concedes, "But we've never, I mean I never really thought… No, we haven't, ok."

She so clearly had a crush on this girl that Cassie just doesn't know what to say. Instead, she opts for taking another sip of her wine, trying to repress the plans springing up in her mind of how she could stake an open claim on Rachel.

(They all basically involve the one thing she's terrified of, so…)

"So are you excited to go back to Ohio?" Cassie asks, mostly to break the slightly awkward tension that's suddenly appeared.

"Yeah, I mean, I haven't seen my dads or Quinn or Finn in ages, so…" Rachel shrugs, but Cassie's emotions are clearly playing right across her face because Rachel kind of freezes and the tension in the air only grows.

"Are you going to see him?" Cassie asks in possibly the worst attempt at casual she's ever made.

"Yeah, we're singing together," Rachel tells her, with a slightly defiant edge to her voice. "Mr. Schue asked us to."

Cassie scoffs, rolling her eyes.

"Cassie, you've got to stop getting so jealous, OK! Santana's right-"

"Wait, so you've been talking to your little friends about me?" asks Cassie snarkily, affronted.

"She was just asking about my life! And you're a _part_ of that," Rachel tells her.

"That's funny, because I'm pretty sure I've seen more of my neighbours in the past two weeks than I have of you."

"You know what, I can't deal with you when you're like this," says Rachel angrily, grabbing her bag and getting up.

"Like _what_?!" Cassie demands in disbelief.

"Jealous! Possessive!" Rachel shouts, with wild gestures. "And maybe I thought that was cute in high school, but now it's just scary, okay Cassie. You're _scaring_ me_._"

Cassie sits in absolute shock. Rachel's eyes are flashing and Cassie feels her mouth go dry as she realises her paranoid fears are coming to life.

"You know what," Rachel says more calmly, "I'm just gonna go home and see my family and friends, and leave you to calm down, and I'll see you when I get back."

The door slams shut and Cassie squeezes her eyes shut to fight back the tears of humiliation and anger and fear trying to slide down her cheeks. When she opens them again the first thing she sees is the half-full bottle of wine sitting opposite her.

(She finishes that, and another, and passes out on her sofa some time before midnight.)

* * *

Cassie wakes up the next day feeling like death warmed up, but she cannot find an ounce of energy in her to care. It's easier just to be numb than face the entire emotional spectrum constantly being thrown at her. She's just too goddamn _tired_.

She drags herself out of bed and into the bath sometime around mid-afternoon, and lies staring blankly at the white tiles until the bubbles slowly disappear and the water turns cold.

"_You're scaring me."_

Cassie yanks the plug out of the drain and grabs a towel, running it through her hair as she walks back to her bedroom, dripping all over her wooden floor. She's just about to collapse back onto her bed when she notices the flashing light on her phone.

One missed call: Schwimmer.

_Shit_.

Her heart hammers in her chest and she runs a hand anxiously through her matted mane as she calls Rachel back. This is it, this must be it.

"Hello?" says an unfamiliar voice.

"Er, hello, I'm looking for Rachel." Cassie frowns slightly, checking the caller ID, but yeah, definitely Schwimmer.

"Oh, sorry, she's disappeared. I'm just watching her stuff."

"Is she okay? Do you know where she is?"

"I saw her sneak out with Finn, so yeah, she's probably ok," laughs the girl.

Cassie feels the bile forcing itself up her throat as her stomach clenches.

"Thanks," she croaks, and lets the phone slip from her hand.

She can't breathe. _She actually can't breathe_. She just sits down slowly on the edge of her bed, frozen except for the wheezing coming from her chest.

This can't be happening. This _can't_. Her world feels like it's simultaneously frozen in time and crumbling in on itself, and god she just wants to _scream_.

So she does. She screams and screams, ripping her Rachel-scented sheets from the bed, hurling her perfume bottles across the room and feeling her life smash to pieces along with the glass. Her screams turns into sobs as she runs her hands madly through her hair, storming out of her room except there's nowhere for her to go. She paces her flat, wailing, almost bent over double as the force of the pain hits her. She has to make it go away. She _has to_. Then almost as she thinks it, she freezes. Her sobs stop, and a rush of cold air spreads through her body.

She needs to lash out at something, someone.

Cassie hurries back to her bedroom, wiping tears angrily from her cheeks and tugging off her clothes as she goes, hurling them across the floor. She finds the shortest, tightest black dress she owns, throws on some eyeliner and red lipstick in about five minutes, and barely even glancing in the mirror she tugs on her heels, grabs her purse and storms out the house to find a cab.

Two hours later and half a bottle of vodka later, she lets herself be dragged back to some guy's flat. She doesn't regret it until he pushes her over the edge and all she can see is Rachel.

* * *

She wakes up in her own flat, sometime in the early evening, to the sound of someone hammering at her front door. Whoever they are can fuck off, because she feels like absolute _hell_.

"Cassie!"

No. No, no, _no._

"Cassie, it's me! Let me in!"

She burrows further under her covers, but the banging doesn't stop. And suddenly she just wants to yell in Rachel's face exactly where to go, so she yanks back her covers and storms through her flat, ripping the door open.

"What the _fuck_ do you want?!" she demands, and Rachel actually takes a step back at the force of her anger. She stares, her eyes running up and down Cassie's body, and it's only then Cassie realises she's standing in some very stained, ripped underwear.

"Oh my god," Rachel says quietly. "Cassie what _happened_?"

"That's none of your fucking business," she snaps.

"Cassie, what-"

"Do you think I don't know about you _fucking_ your ex-boyfriend?!"

"Oh my _god_!" Rachel yells in exasperation, tearing her hands through her hair. "How many times do I have to tell you?! There's _nothing_ going in between us!"

"Schwimmer, I _phoned_ you okay, and your little friend gave me quite the picture," Cassie tells her.

"What are you talking about?" Rachel asks her, and Cassie scoffs. She can't believe she's such a fucking coward.

"She _saw you_, with your ex-boyfriend, sneaking off together," Cassie says angrily.

"Cassie we weren't sneaking off, ok! I lost my phone and I was trying to call you because I was _upset_. I couldn't stop thinking about your argument, and then Finn tried to get me to tell him what was wrong, but I just wanted you!"

Rachel's voice cracks as she fights back tears, and cold dread runs through Cassie's body.

"Did you honestly believe I'd do that?" she asks quietly, looking heartbroken. Cassie can't look at her, can't say anything as the full reality of her actions starts to register. She feels Rachel's eyes raking over her body, and hears the hitch in her breath at what she _knows_ is a hickey that Rachel definitely didn't leave on her neck.

"Did you… did you sleep with someone?" Rachel asks, and she doesn't even sound hurt, she just sounds _confused_; like she honestly, truly can't comprehend the idea that Cassie would betray her like that.

It's that blind faith in her goodness which forces Cassie to meet Rachel's eyes; when she does, Rachel's hand comes up to her mouth in a sob, and she starts shaking her head desperately.

"Rachel," Cassie croaks, moving towards her, but Rachel backs away. She's still shaking, looking so heartbroken and uncomprehending that Cassie's heart actually breaks in two.

"I can't believe you!" Rachel cries. "You told me… you told you were _mine_!"

"Rachel, I'm so sorry," Cassie sobs, but it's useless, and she knows it. She knows she's never deserved Rachel, not even for a second, and this is exactly why. Rachel, looking entirely broken in two, turns from her and runs; and Cassie lets her.

Then she leans against the door doubled over, gasping for breath as she sobs. She slides down against the wood, falling limp onto the floor, and one single thought cuts through her like a blade.

_She loves her_.

* * *

**This chapter was really, really hard to write. I've been dragging it out a few hundred words at a time for over two weeks, and although it's no where near perfect, I literally can't write anymore. So, rest assured, I feel your pain.**


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